


Tongue Tied

by selina_kyle



Category: Henry Cavill - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-02 21:18:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8683738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selina_kyle/pseuds/selina_kyle
Summary: In which Ophelia Beaumont's business class seat mate on her late-night flight back to London is Henry Cavill himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, this is not my first time writing Henry one-shots, but this is the first time I'm posting them on this site. This story was intended to be a one-shot, but it became a little too long to be considered that. Shoutout to Anra (@cavillaf on Twitter) for getting me to call this a fanfiction instead of a one-shot. If you guys are here for the smut, you can scroll down and look for the scene but I really hope you guys are here for the plot as well (it's pretty fluffy imo). It took me a month to write this with everything going on in my life so hopefully you'll enjoy this! xx h

It's a long summer break and I enjoyed my time in Los Angeles, but I have to head back. My family's waiting for my quick visit before I actually go back to campus for my next year, and I actually miss school. I miss seeing certain familiar faces. Sure, I might hate going to school like everyone else, but when you turn bored with nothing else in mind, school suddenly becomes a good idea.

As I wait for the queue of passengers in the airplane to move, I glance around for my seat. It was somewhere around here in business class, but it must be somewhere up at the front. The line finally moves and I sigh, placing my carry-on luggage into the storage overhead when I arrived at my place. It's by the window, just the way I like it. I take my seat and stare out at the evening sky of Los Angeles and the roads for the aircrafts to take off. Before I know it, I hear a stifled grunt and my head whips to my left side.

A man, about 6'1" with broad shoulders takes a seat beside me. He cleans up well with a casual black jacket and jeans. I can't see what shoes he's wearing. His dark hair's unkempt but trimmed. It seems like he's my one and only seating partner.

Just when I nearly turn to look away, I hear him greet me. "Hi there."

I pause. A British accent like me, except that he's got a low but rather soothing voice that sounds familiar. That ought to be something.

I turn again and finally see the man's face.

Oh shit. It's Henry. _Henry Cavill_.

Fuck.

I force a smile that I pray doesn't look like a grimace or a cringe to him. Unable to speak, I nod slightly at him, diverting my eyes from his face so that I can gather myself.

Fuck. I'm sitting next to Henry Cavill, Hollywood actor and the hottest man on Earth in an airplane in business class for the next ten hours.

_Please, God, don't make me screw anything up for the entire flight and make sure I look decent in his eyes._

I look down to my shift dress. I'm not one to wear dresses, but luckily I'm wearing shorts that won't make my thighs uncomfortable. Alright, I look slightly better than most of my days because I'm in a dress, and hopefully I don't look at sloppy as I normally am at home or in my dorm room. I fish for my phone in my bag and keep myself busy by switching it to airplane mode. My mind's still running at a thousand miles per hour. Fuck. I'm sitting beside a man millions of women would kill me for.

This is awful. I obviously fantasize of meeting him, but not this way. Not in a flight this long where everyone's looks will deteriorate due to the duration of the flight. I grab a travel magazine offered at the seat and open it, hiding my face from Henry Cavill so that he can't see my reddening face (if my full-coverage long-lasting foundation doesn't hide it). I then make whatever expressions on my face that can express my overwhelming emotions due to the man who sits beside me behind the magazine.

I'm still relatively in disbelief about this, so I peek out from the mag to check if it really is him or whether it was some lookalike. The jawline's the same as in the pictures. Same goes for the nose and the soft pink lips and the dazzling blue eyes and his sharp cheekbones—

Okay, it's him. I chastise myself inwardly for going off-course about this, then groan, sliding down my seat with the magazine just lying on my face.

"Miss, are you okay?"

I breath out, picking up the magazine from my face. I reluctantly look at him, and he had that smile that could light up the world, one that I was familiar with in GIFs and pictures.

Yeah, it's _definitely_ him.

I clear my throat, looking away. "Yeah, I just kind of fell asleep and I didn't realize I was sliding down." I reply in a clipped tone.

I take a quick glance at him. He stares downwards from my face. Following his gaze, I find that my dress rode up my thighs. My eyes widen and I yank it down immediately. "Uh, I'm so sorry—"

He interrupts me, his eyes looking at my face. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have looked in the first place—"

An air steward's voice starts playing overhead us, reminding us to put on our seat-belts before the plane takes off. Scrambling for something to take my attention of the fact that Henry Cavill was staring at my thigh, I quickly lock myself into my seat with the safety belt and awkwardly sit there, looking out of the window again as my fingers pick at each other on my lap. There's a moment of silence giving me enough time to reflect and bash myself up mentally before the silence breaks.

"I... I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have stared and it's my fault. My mother taught me better, I can assure you. This was simply a relapse in my manners." He starts. Oh god, his voice's so _smooth_.

I'm a mess on the inside, but decide not to show it. "It's fine."

"So you're from England too? I mean... It is obvious."

I clear my throat. "Oxshott, Surrey."

He grins his famous boyish yet handsome smile. "Jersey, Channel Islands. What's your name?"

I'm surprised that he asked. "Ophelia." I stammer, glancing at him quickly.

"I'm Henry."

"I—I know." My ears tints red as I admit to knowing him.

His brows raise, as if he wasn't expecting that, then he chuckles, a low sound that can melt butter alone. "Ah, I should have known that was the reason you don't look comfortable. I usually book first class, but weirdly the entire cabin was all booked and so I had to go for the next best thing. I'm so sorry, I can always request to get to another seat—"

And like that, I widen my eyes in panic as I turn to him face-to-face. "Oh my god, you don't need to, _please_ , I didn't mean to make you think that way. I mean, I'm a big fan, uh, and I just didn't know how to react! I, uhm, ah..." My words trail off and I bite my lip. "Uh, you get the idea."

He gives a tight-lipped smile as he nods. "Don't worry, I totally get it, but I don't want us to feel this awkward just because of me."

I'm tempted to cock an eyebrow. _Awkward just because of him?_ He's a god among men. How am I supposed to relax?

I just take a deep breath in and keep a straight face. "Okay, fine. I'll try not to be awkward around you." I give him a momentary smile that I can manage. "Now, I'd just like to continue to do my things..." I look around to my small bag and grimace.

"...And what is it that you have to do?" He smirks, knowing that I have nothing planned. His smirk. Fuck. _No, don't show that you're a total slut for him. Don't. Don't whore around, Ophelia, or I will fuck you up._

"Glad you asked," I regain my equilibrium and fish out for my unopened pack of worm gummy. "I'm going to snack on this while I watch whatever the airline offers for inflight entertainment."

"Well, you could always watch my movies." He suggests.

"And why would I need to watch your movies when you're right here? I'm not going to do that, there are better ones offered here, I'm sure." I try to joke, then look through the movie selection on the screen for my seat. Sure enough, there's _Man of Steel_ and _Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice_. I treat them like any other movie I flicked through since I know he's looking. I didn't know that fucking with Henry Cavill himself would be enjoyable. When I find a documentary, I beam at him, managing to do decently at _not being awkward just because of him_. "Ah, an educational documentary on animals by Sir David Attenborough sounds a lot more entertaining than your movies."

He shakes his head, laughing. "Okay, maybe, but I'm interested to know what you think of my movies so just watch it."

"I've watched your movies tons of times, I've even dissected the scenes and scrutinized every second of the films. I have plenty of comments but I'm not going to tell you because I find it unnecessary." I respond, laughing.

He purses his lips, tilting his head as if he's thinking of another way to convince me to watch them right now. "Well, since I, Henry Cavill, am here with you right now for ten hours straight, we can watch the movies and do some commentary about the scenes. I'll see whether I can respond to certain questions you might have. If there are actual, genuine problems you think that exist in the movies, you can tell me and then I might just tell Zack a little of your input and see if this will help improve the next movie." He says, giving me a smirk again as if it's a once-in-a-lifetime chance.

Okay, fine, it is. I sigh, plugging in my earphones into the screen and I scroll to _Man of Steel_ first. "Fine, we'll start with this one and then _BVS_." I plug my left earphone into my ear and offer my right one to him, cocking an eyebrow. "So, are you going to do the commentary with me, Mr. Cavill?" I tease.

He takes the earphone from me, chuckling as he fits it into his ear. My heart does a little dance as I think of how Henry Cavill is using my earphones. These ones are definitely going to be loved by me for the rest of my life.

I adjust the screen so that the both of us can watch and Henry scoots closer to me as the screen is in front of us, between both of the seats at the front. I rest my elbow on the armrest, getting a whiff of Henry's scent. Shit, he smells fresh as hell. I gulp down all the saliva that threatens to fall from my mouth.

And so we watch the movie. I point out certain things, while he tells me stories about what happened during the filming of the movie. It's rather entertaining, with some of his stories already heard by so many while the rest are probably what fans don't know about. Even though he's telling his stories, it feels like I'm with a normal person even though he _is_ Henry Cavill.

In the movie, as he's saving people from the fire, I try not to grin so hard. "I feel like I've seen you half-naked on screen tons of times. Like, don't you ever feel like directors and producers just make you take your shirt off just for the sake of it?"

Henry chuckles. "Well, yes, sometimes but I don't mind it unless you do," he tilts his head to the side as he looks at me with a questioning expression.

I purse my lips. "Well, if the general population doesn't complain, I won't." I reply.

He flashes a wide grin at me before he turns to the movie to watch. I realize what I've said, then flush. Did I just flirt with him? Oh god, hopefully he doesn't catch the fact that I'm a whore for him.

The movie goes on and I ask more questions and even ask him to confirm my theories, which he refuses to do so.

"Are you working for the media? Because you sound like a journalist digging for the most vital information." He jokes.

I shake my head. "I'm still studying. I study Classical Languages and Literature at Oxford for my doctorate. And no, even though I don't work for the media, I won't divulge this information to anyone. Well, maybe my cat, but not to humans." I tell him.

"Classical Languages, huh? How old are you?"

"I'm turning twenty-five this month." I reply, then glance at the screen. "Is it bad that I can't stand Lois?" I ask as Amy Adams is being caught midair by him in the movie. "I mean, I don't know what it is but I just don't like her."

"Why's that?" Henry turns to me, frowning.

I simply shrug. "I just... I don't know. Lois Lane just doesn't click for me."

He nods slowly, as if he's trying to come up with reasons why I don't like the character. "I'll accept that answer for now."

I pull out a strawberry gummy worm from the pack and tear it with my teeth and fingers, trying to savor it. As Henry and his costar start kissing in the film, I ask, "So who's the best kisser among all your costars?"

He smirks, eyes still trained on the screen. "I don't kiss and tell." He replies, stealing the strawberry gummy from my hand before taking a bite at the part I had already bit into with his blue eyes on me, glinting mischievously.

I hyperventilate inwardly. Henry Cavill just did a suggestive action towards me. I simply stare at him blankly and slowly but surely turn to the screen again. I hear his chest rumble in humor lowly.

"So what were you doing in Los Angeles?" He asks.

"I was there... for Universal Studios. I went there with friends but I had to leave days earlier than them. I'm visiting family." I respond. "What were you doing in Los Angeles?"

He grimaces. "Tons and tons of meetings for my upcoming projects. I had an entire week of them with at least two meetings a day. I don't think I've ever been this busy."

"Well, I'm sure you de-stressed at some point." I shrug.

"Well, as a matter of fact, I haven't— not properly, at most."

"And how do you define 'de-stressing', then?"

"I would go out, have a couple of drinks with my friends, dance with a few pretty girls..."

"And get laid?" I finish his sentence since he sounds reluctant to complete his sentence. "Okay, that's valid but I guess you'll have to wait until the plane lands for you to do so."

"Ever been part of the mile high club?"

I pause, tilting my head at him. "No, and I don't intend to."

He smirks. "Ever?"

Okay, now it's getting suggestive. _Very_ suggestive. I cock an eyebrow at him. "Not sure about that, but for now, no."

I notice him getting a bit closer and I stay, unwavering on the outside while begging on the inside. "Who'd you lose your mile high club virginity to, if you could pick anyone in this world?" He whispers.

In my head, I'm screaming that it's him, he'd be the one I'd lose whatever kind of virginity to, but on the outside, I pretend to ponder for a second. "My boyfriend."

"Oh? A boyfriend? Well, does he happen to be imaginary?"

I go silent. Oh god. He caught me.

"Of course he is, isn't he?" His smirk deepens. "Do you prefer casual sex?"

My mind goes blank as I look at him. Never in my life had I ever thought Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill would be interested in me. I shake my head. This isn't what I had planned.

"Well, I'm not into casual sex," I finally respond. "I only do it with boyfriends."

I can feel him lean closer and closer, his eyes darting from my lips to my eyes. "Can I be your boyfriend, then?" He murmurs.

My breath holds. I can't move. His lips are close to grazing mine and I close my eyes, anticipating the man of my dreams to finally kiss me in real life.

"Miss Beaumont, Mr. Cavill, your dinner?"

I release my breath in exasperation as I open my eyes to find the air stewardess passing us our dinner sets. Henry's already pulled away and gives a polite smile to the stewardess before looking down at his set— a salmon fillet and cherry tomatoes drizzled in olive oil with a piece of bread as a side and plain water. Mine's the same, except that I requested for milk instead of water.

The air stewardess leaves, and suddenly, I don't know how to bounce back from our interrupted almost-kiss. I clear my throat, switching off the film that is still playing. This is awkward.

"Ophelia," I hear him call my name, trying to get my attention.

I gulp nervously. "Yeah?" I respond, but don't look up. I instead take my first bite of the salmon.

"Ophelia," he repeats, this time his tone slightly stronger.

"What is it?" I ask in a clipped tone.

He sighs, not saying anything as I don't give him the reaction he wanted. I don't want to. It's impossible for me to even stay in a flight with him this long and to not feel embarrassed. To think that I had last this long is a miracle, even—

Lips mash with mine before I can even register the fact that he's reached out to the sides of my face to bring me closer. My eyes widen, staring at his closed eyelids. I panic. I'm _kissing_ Henry Cavill. I'm kissing Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill, and this flight is _ten hours_.

It all feels like a dream sequence playing in my head— the iconic beginning of Spandau Ballet's song _True_  starts playing in my head, the taste of mints wafts from his mouth and I simply melt in his arms. He kisses me deeper and I just reciprocate. _This_ is the kiss I never thought I'll have.

His lips pull away from mine slowly, but his forehead rests against mine. I still close my eyes, feeding off of the bliss that I have acquired from the kiss.

"I have a proposition to make," he murmurs, and his lips touch mine slightly as he talks. "Be my girlfriend for the rest of this flight."

"Why?" I ask simply to tease him.

"Because I want you to be."

Heck, who the fuck doesn't want to be his girlfriend, even if it's only for ten hours? Unknowingly, my lips upturn as I start humming to the chorus that's playing in my head over and over again. Henry notices and chuckles lowly. "I take that as a yes?" He asks.

"That's perfectly fine by me." I replies.

"That's good then." I hear the joy in his tone and he pulls away. "Our first date, dinner?" I roll my eyes at him. He shakes his head, grinning. "So, rapid fire round?"

I shrug. "Sure."

"Okay then— when's your birthday?"

"Twentieth June."

He grins back at me. "Fifth May. Favorite color?"

I ponder over the question. "Black is the most versatile color, ever."

"Blue for me." He tells me. "What's your hobby?"

"Watching movies and TV shows. Listening to music. I don't know, I feel like I don't have a specific hobby— most probably because I don't have the time to start one." I reply.

He shrugs. "Same thing. What's your favorite part of what you're studying?" He asks.

"I'm all for the ancient Greeks. Sure, the Romans may be disciplined and such, but the Greeks built a foundation for the Romans to the point where the Romans stole statues of Greek gods and worshipped them as Roman ones." I tell him. "The myths are fascinating as well. I grew up listening about Perseus and his Pegasus, the story of Prometheus, how the Olympian gods took over from the Titans and such. If I were a goddess, my parents would be Hades and Aphrodite and I'd want to be taken under Athena and Artemis's wing."

"Power, beauty and wisdom— you sound like a real-life Wonder Woman." He comments.

"And you're the real-life Superman, even people online can confirm it." I tell him, smiling. I shake my head, laughing. "Anyway, tell me something about you that the public doesn't know about."

He purses his lips, thinking about my question. "Well, okay, let me see... I have Snapchat, but I accidentally pressed on the 'next' button while doing my username. I thought I could change it but it turns out, you can't ever change your username. I'm stuck without a second L in my surname for Snapchat and it's embarrassing."

I watch as his ears tints red upon telling the story, and I chortle. "Oh my god, well that's something! Ever heard of deactivating the account so that you can do your username right?"

His adorable blue eyes widen. "Wait, what? I didn't think of that! I, uh, I give up with Snapchat. I'm going to stick to Instagram and my private Twitter account."

"Okay, that private Twitter account though, I'm going to have to know what it is." I tell him.

He shakes his head. "I can't. I do my stalking there. It's also frankly embarrassing, my tweets. I tweet like an old person."

"Oh come on!" I pout. "Tell me!"

He sighs, the smile of humor still etched on his face. "Okay, fine, but at the end of the flight."

I grin. "Fine by me."

"So, we're not watching _Batman v Superman_ anymore, are we?" He asks. Just as he asks, it's lights out in the cabin.

I cock an eyebrow. "After you started the off-topic conversation, blatantly suggested sex, asked if you could be my boyfriend and kissed me, do you still want to watch it?"

He chuckles. "You're very sharp-tongued, did you know that?"

I shrug. "It helps me get through life most of the time." I reply, then wires in my brain start whirring around. I can't help but let a small smile glimpse through. Is _this_ how I can seize the opportunity to really be with my long-time Hollywood crush?

Henry seems observant enough to notice my expression. "You have that look on your face that tells me I should watch out." He tells me lightheartedly.

"You've asked me to be your girlfriend and I've said yes, but how about a betting game?" I suggest.

He looks genuinely curious. "Well, what is it that we're betting?"

"By the time the next four hours of this flight is over, you'll fall in love with me and are ready to confess. I bet a hundred pounds. If the desired outcome doesn't happen, you get a hundred pounds. I win, I get the cash."

He watches me closely, a smirk slowly forming on his face. "You're betting dangerously, Ophelia Beaumont, but if dangerous is how you want to play it, fine."

I grin back. "Fantastic. Now, where were we?"

"You having a sharp tongue."

"Ah, yes, I've got nothing more to say about it." I reply.

As I look at him, his blue eyes flickers from my lips to my eyes. He purses his lips, wetting them in the process. My breath stops. He wants to kiss me again. With bravado, I place a hand on his cheek and lean in closer until I feel the familiar feel of his lips on mine.

This man is _my boyfriend_. Henry Cavill, _Boyfriend_ of Ophelia Beaumont. Damn it, even that sounds too good to be true.

He opens his mouth, his tongue swiping at my lips to part. I comply and moan when I feel his hand slide down from my back to my ass.

I allow my hands to roam around his body. Good god, the muscles on Henry are stunning to touch. Suddenly, he pulls away from the kiss. I'm slightly bemused and still dazed until he presses a button at the side of his seat to raise up the shield at his side.

"It's lights out, so most of the cabin crew have already gone to sleep." Henry tells me in my ear, making the hairs at the back of my neck stand up in anticipation. His gaze darkens as he eyes me like a prey in the night.

"And?"

He doesn't say anything else, but lifts me from my seat to his lap rather effortlessly. As I register the fact that I'm sitting on the lap of Henry Cavill, something feels uncomfortable. I frown, adjusting myself when I realized what it is.

Oh. _Oh_.

I look down at him and his expression tells me he knows what I'm feeling right now.

He smirks. "Ready for your initiation into the Mile High Club?"

I can't respond. Instead, I lean towards him and kiss him urgently. Yes. _Yes_ , I'm ready to be a part of it with him. He kisses me back with the same fervor and I zip down his jacket, revealing a t-shirt that hugs his muscles deliciously. His lips wanders away from mine, but never away from my skin as they drift downwards to my neck. I groan as his lips latch onto my sweet spot and I fumble clumsily with the zip on his jeans. He removes his jacket and throws it on my seat before unbuttoning the front buttons that holds my dress together.

He pushes the material away from my shoulders and his fingers trip over the bra straps that cling onto my skin. Before he can do anything else, I pull down his jeans slightly and my hand goes into his boxers, emerging with his shaft erect at my fingertips.

"Fuck," I whimper, looking at him. "It's so big." Slowly, I stroke it up and down while keeping my gaze on him.

"Oh yeah, baby girl," Henry hisses and jerks reactively. "Fuck, that's good."

I chuckle, raising my hand from his dick to my mouth. Keeping my eyes on him, I lick my fingers as he watches. He growls at the sight and my wet hand goes back to his cock. Roughly, he grabs at my jawline and his thumb grazed across the outline of my lips before he sticks it into my mouth. I moan, sucking on his thumb as I try to focus on stroking him as well. His other hand stops mine from doing so when he feels for my shorts and panties before pulling them down. Almost immediately, the cold air hits my pussy and gets me even wetter.

He grabs at it quickly, as if feeling if I'm good to go. With his thumb still in my mouth, he guides his large cockhead to the entrance of my cunt. As soon as I feel it, I nearly orgasm at the touch. Fuck, I want him to stick it in instantly or else I'll go insane.

"Baby girl," the rough undertone of his voice makes me look up at him, "how badly do you want it?"

To answer his question, I grab the hand that's at my face and lap in all of his digits with my eyes trained on him. With the same hand, I allow it to trace down my body with my hands on his wrist. I shrug off my sleeves and the dress only covers my abdomen. I stop his hand at my breasts, tucking them out from my bra cups for him to see and touch. Without my guidance at all, he gropes at one tit, swiping his fingers lightly over my nipple while I keep his hand there. I bite my bottom lip as I rock against his cockhead that's just teasing my wet lips, relishing in the pleasure of it and his fingers playing with my nipple.

"Oh my god," I moan softly. " _Yes_." My back arches upon feeling the upcoming orgasm that's going to rip through my body.

Henry, impatient of waiting, brings me closer to him so that his lips can wind around my nipple. Almost immediately, I cum and he forces me down on his entire cock. I gasp, feeling the orgasm grow stronger as I ride it out on his shaft. He's still attached to my breasts as his blue eyes turns darker when I look down at him. He groans, sending vibrations to my breast which I whimper about.

"Lower your head, baby," he murmurs. "Make sure no one sees us or else we could get caught."

As I stay impaled on his dick, my eyes take a quick glance around the cabin. No one's going in and out, and a lot of the business class passengers seem to be asleep, some with earmuffs on.

Looking back down at him again, I smirk. "What for?" I start grinding slowly, my clit grazing against his skin. "Almost everyone's sleeping," my fingers go up to his glorious dark hair with my long nails scraping against his scalp, "and even if they aren't, they're minding their own business." Slowly, I grind harder and faster. I lower my head, whispering into his ear. "If they aren't minding their own business though... they're going to see me, your girlfriend, half-naked, bouncing on the long thick cock that belongs to you and wonder who is the lucky man sitting in this seat right now."

Henry jerks his hips up, as if he wants to go in deeper. "Fuck," he spits, his hands staying on my waist. "You're an expert seductress. You love to act innocent but you turn into a slut in bed, don't you? Jesus Christ, if I keep you as my whore, will you always be cock-hungry for me?"

"Always. I want it in my mouth, my pussy, my ass, anywhere that it can fit." I pant. "I've never cummed so hard until just now. Oh god, you give your baby girl the best cummies that she just wants more."

He gives a lopsided grin. "The best, huh?" His hands holding my waist goes down. One hand rubs my asscheek while the other gets dangerously close to my clit. All of a sudden, he spanks my ass once while pinching my clit that makes me jolt up in a mini-orgasm.

He keeps his fingers at my drenched clit while his other hand rubs my ass again as if he's getting me ready for my next spank. I lick my lips at him. "The best I've ever had." I try to spread my legs wider so that I can properly enjoy him rubbing my clit.

His head leans in closer to my body. "You're the best I've ever had too. You're fucking amazing, baby girl." He licks my nipples, and with the cold air the airplane had, it makes me tingle and yearn for more. I grab his hair, keeping him right there as he continues to rub my clit. Soon enough, he spanks me and spurs me to go faster. I raise myself from his cock halfway before my ass starts bouncing on his shaft. With my legs spread, I can really feel him pumping in and out of me while he teases my clit, spanks me and sucks my nipples. It's overloading my senses and my pussy's so wet I can feel the juices leaking down so much.

"Oh, oh my god, yes, I'm cumming!" I whimper, bouncing on his cock faster. He continues to keep up the spanking, sucking my tits and rubbing my clit even though he's nearly lost contact a couple of times because it's so wet.

" _Fuck_ ," he groans. "Your pussy is so tight. Your ass is so firm, supple." He spanks me again to prove his point. "Your tits are bloody fantastic. Your whole body is mine now, baby. When I need to destress, I'll look forward to your tits and ass. You like that?"

"Use me however you want, _please_."

"Yeah, I will use you however the fuck I want and you're going to be ready for me just about anytime I want. Aw, shit." He throws his head back as I clench my walls around his cock. I'm gonna cum," he growls slightly, spanking me so that my pussy tightens around him. Finally, I feel the strands of cum that he shoots in me. We both sigh in satisfaction.

I get off him, breathing heavily as my head starts to spin slightly. I move back to my seat, picking up his jacket that I then hug. He zips up his pants while I put my bra on properly. I haven't worn the top of my dress yet, still gathering myself and trying to cool down.

"We're really going through every stage of a relationship within ten hours on a plane, aren't we?" I chuckle.

"Yeah, well, we can't do the whole 'meet the parents' or 'introduction of friends' on a plane, so not really." He replies, and we both laugh.

"Ready to tell me you've fallen for me?" I ask.

He smirks. "You know, that's sneaky. I'm not losing a hundred bucks to you yet."

I shrug on his jacket, zipping it up until my cleavage is slightly visible for him to enjoy whenever he wants. I sigh, putting my bare legs up onto his lap.

I glance at the time on the little television in front. "Only six more hours to go. Now, what did you plan for us to do?"

He starts massaging my calves and I hum in satisfaction. "Well, doing a PhD must be difficult." He starts.

I go ahead with the topic he's chosen and frown, thinking about it. "It _is_ tough, tougher than being an undergrad. It takes more... originality, more creativity. The professors require something that's uniquely you, but it's hard when you're heavily influenced by your idols but luckily I'm doing a lot of history, because that means that I have the things laid out for me already." I told him. "How was school for you?"

He starts by smiling and shaking his head. "Well, pretty taxing. I never went to university. After graduating, I just pursued acting. The subjects were okay, the guys at school were kind of fine as well, except for the part where I was bullied, and then I always looked forward to football and my acting classes and such. It was a typical experience, I guess."

I adjust my position and sit up slightly. "Do you ever wish you went to uni?" I tilt my head at him.

He shakes his head. "I always liked learning, but I didn't like doing piles and piles of paperwork that teachers have to give so no, I never really thought about going to university."

I cock an eyebrow. "Never?"

He looks up at me, giving a small grin. "No, haven't thought about it since graduating from secondary school. I'm no academic type like you."

"Hey, who said anything about me being an academic type?" I slap his arm gently. "I'm not, I swear. If you ever ask me to do maths, I'd die. I struggled in school. My teachers picked on me about my homework. I only flourished in university since it focuses on what you want to learn. I can't do mathematical formulas or scientific equations, but I can read classic literature and history books for the longest of times. I've always been better at languages, literature and history."

He looks at me in the weirdest way, still kneading my calves, and says, "Huh, who would have thought that'll be what we'd have in common?"

I beam. "Well, you had it coming. When I read on IMDb about how you like history, books and stuff, I had the same reaction as you now."

"They list down my likes and dislikes, huh?" He asks.

"Only your likes. I've never seen your dislikes anywhere. Typical PR move?"

He nods. "To gain fans, you list your likes. To lose fans, you list down your dislikes."

"Ah, basic psychology. Right." I reply. "Biology is the only domain of science I have never minded because everything would just click and make sense easily."

He laughs. "Very true, Miss Beaumont. I have a question for you that's slightly off-topic, though."

"Shoot."

"What's your family like?"

He finishes with his massage and I remove my legs from his lap, sitting properly at my seat again. "Well, my family isn't loud or such. We keep things as calm as possible since my parents are lawyers— my father's in corporate law while my mother's under family law, and since they already argue so much at court, they don't want to raise their voices like that at home, but the occasional disagreements can spark off the longest, toughest arguments at the dinner table. It gets pretty crazy." I laugh.

"My parents aren't like that. Since there are five boys in the house, me included, there's constant yelling. Luckily I'm the second youngest, so if anything happens, the fault goes to my older brothers. If it was proved that I did something, my parents would still scold them for not preventing whatever it was that I and my younger brother did." He shakes his head at the memory as I caught a hint of nostalgia in his blue eyes. Good god, they were beautiful.

"I have two brothers— one older and the other younger, but I don't get the Middle Child Syndrome since I'm the only daughter. I never had to share things with my siblings and we were treated pretty equally. It was hard to do the whole favoritism chaos since my brothers are the oldest and youngest while I'm the only girl. It was just hard to start treating any of us specially." I shrug. "If I ever have kids, I'd want two sons, the oldest and youngest, and a daughter for a middle child. That'll be the perfect formula to make sure favoritism wouldn't be practiced in the household."

"Perfect formula indeed." He nods slowly at my opinion before pausing. "You seem to know a lot about what you want and what you don't want."

"Is that good or bad?" I want to shove my tongue down my throat— I probably sounded like I had invented what was right and wrong. I know I inherit my parents' decisive and outspoken personas, but sometimes it scares people away so much. I feel like having my seat ejected from the airplane so that I won't have to face Henry anymore.

He shakes his head. "It's more than great. I mean, you've gotten the time to think things through and you know what fits you best. That's certainly something every man would want their woman to be like."

Okay, my plane ticket didn't change its destination to hell. I sigh in relief quietly. "Every man, huh?" I bounce back and smirk at him.

He seems to know where I'm going with this. "Yes, every man, including me. That is, unless that woman is very hardheaded and has planned every aspect of something without much room for anyone to change it." He says dryly.

"I'm not crazy enough to plan something excessively, alright? Look, if it ever comes to a decision based on the both of us, I'll tell you of my choice and ask whether you like it before making things definite, does that sound good to you?" I raise an eyebrow at him. If he's still not satisfied about this, things aren't getting easier than before.

He pretends to ponder over it, then smiles. "Well, I'm more than fine with it." He finally says.

I glance at the time and suddenly, I feel my under-eyes getting heavier. I resist my yawn and smile back at him. "Let's try this first— I'm knackered, it's eleven and lights out. Can I go to sleep now?" I joke.

He gives me a once-over before he leans towards me, the back of his fingers grazing across my cheekbones. I shiver slightly under his warmth and he closes his eyes, placing his lips on my forehead. He lingers for five seconds and I take in the moment. The man I fell in love with through pictures and interviews is miraculously my cabin mate, let alone my seating partner and now he's giving me what seems to be a tender, innocent kiss on the forehead. I melt immediately and sigh.

He pulls away, his hand still at my face as he looks at me. "Goodnight." His deep blue eyes are gentle and full of an emotion I can immediately recognize. I'm not sure whether he knows he's feeling it, but I'm willing to wait it out.

"It'll be a nap. I'll wake before you know it." I tell him so that he won't think this will be the end of our conversations. I don't want it to end either, but I'm tired from the day.

He doesn't respond. His hand falls back to his lap and I adjust my seat to go down so that I can sleep properly. With the pillow and blanket provided by the airline, I tuck myself in as my consciousness fades second by second.


	2. Chapter 2

I breathe in deeply and check the time on my phone beside me— it's three in the morning, Los Angeles time. We only have three more hours left before we land in Heathrow.

I turn around, wanting to see if Henry is still awake. Unsurprisingly, he's fast asleep. I can't help but smile at him sleeping— his lashes touch the skin beneath his eyes, his jaw is relaxed and there's a tiny upturn of his lips. My god, he looks younger and more carefree than just now. I'm tempted to trace the outlines of his face, but the urge to head to the bathroom is urgent.

Quietly, I stand up and avoid any contact with Henry so that he won't wake up. It's still lights out in the cabin and I try to walk as silently as I can in my ankle booties to the lavatory. Upon making it at the loo, I sigh in relief until I think back to all of the things we did before I fell asleep. I pause. Ah shit, my morning-after pills are in my bag. I freshen up, reapply my makeup and spritz myself in deodorant before going back to my seat.

Henry's still asleep when I take a seat, so I reach out for the provided bottled water and the morning-after pills in my bag. As I do, I hear a sharp intake of breath and a strong big hand wraps around mine. I turn my head to look at Henry who looks at me through sleep-hooded blue eyes.

"Hey," I greet.

He smiles back, warming up my chest. "Hello."

"Well, you slept just fine."

He sighs. "That was accidental, I didn't realize I fell asleep—"

"That's fine. You're allowed to sleep— you didn't have to force yourself to stay awake. I mean, it's an overnight flight and everyone's expected to sleep." I shrug.

"Well, I wanted to stay awake because I wanted to keep an eye on you."

"You mean watch me sleep?" I tease.

His lips turn upwards. "You caught me."

I notice how our banter has evolved from the beginning of our flight with regard to how it was stuffy and tense, now it's as if we've been together for years, or maybe that's just how it was in my head.

He catches a glimpse of the silver foil keeping the pills sterile. "What's that?"

I flush and keep it away from his view. "Panadol." I lie smoothly. "I'm just having one of those airplane headaches."

He nods, accepting my answer. His hand still holds mine. He still looks like he hasn't snapped out of his drowsy daze, and I manage to pop a morning-after pill from the pack and down it in one gulp before drinking an eighth of the bottled water all with one hand.

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, the sleep in his eyes clears. "We only have three hours left." He says, and he sounds anxious about it. I don't know why.

"Yes, Heathrow is three hours away." I confirm his statement. He pauses for a second, then gets out a black backpack. His MacBook slips out effortlessly from it when he reaches for it and he boots it up. I keep my things as he logs into the wifi and then checks on his emails.

I watch him worriedly for a while before doing my own things when I hear him groan in exasperation. I glance at him then at the screen of his laptop; it's an email addressing him about a familiar name, Tara King.

All I know about her is that she's a 19-year-old Bristol University undergrad who happens to be Henry's ex as well. I remember it well on a Monday night, where headlines just buzzed around about him dumping her as I was trying to do an essay on how Commodus was assassinated and somehow managed to drift to Hollywood gossip (typical of me). Frankly, I wasn't at all surprised about it since I had friends from the same college as her who told me stories about her.

I purse my lips, unsure of how to approach this with him. "Are you okay?" I start nervously.

His eyes flicker at me and harden. "I'm fine." He replies in a clipped tone. I'm unable to form words in my head as I've obviously never seen him like this. Slowly, I turn away and decide to leave him alone to figure things out by himself. He seems like he needs to.

I look through the airplane's vast music collection and put my headphones on. I haven't started the playlist that I've already made when the atmosphere suddenly changes between us.

"Ophelia," he says in a softer tone, and I turn around to look at him. His eyes are gentle and full of apology. He purses his lips as he reaches out for me and pulls me closer in his arms. For the first time, he hugs me and then plants a kiss on my forehead. "I'm sorry for snapping at you."

I shook my head. "You have problems to solve and you're stressed about them so it's fine." I reassure him.

It's uncomfortable, the way we're hugging while sitting down with the armrests in our way, so I keep my arms around his shoulders as I face the front with him, leaning my head on his shoulder. He looks back at the screen of his MacBook, sighs, then closes it.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

He hesitates upon hearing my question. "You've probably heard about my ex-girlfriend, Tara..."

"You went pretty public with the relationship," I note.

He grimaces, as if he regrets it. "Yes. Well, she's been trying to contact me but I blocked her number, so she's harassing my agent and publicist _constantly_. I'm sick of this nonsense she's trying to force me into."

I pause. "If it's not too invasive to ask, what made you guys break up?"

He shakes his head. "I just... I should have never dated her. In the beginning, I was blinded. I thought she was funny, smart and mature until she got insecure— firstly, it was about the women on the street who'd cat-call me. That, I understand her, but when she got a little possessive and jealous about Gal, my costar, I had to assure her. That was when it started to get ridiculous; she called up her friends and family telling them that she was pregnant and that I proposed." He scoffs. "They called me to congratulate us and that was how I found out. She tried to manipulate me when I confronted her about this. That led me to break it off with her."

I widen my eyes. _Wow_ , even the stories from campus that I've heard isn't as bad as this. "Well, I've heard about her through friends from Bristol too." I say hesitantly.

He looks at me, curiosity peeking through his eyes.

"She's popular around the campus, but she's known for not being friendly, to put it nicely." I summarize everything so that I don't need to tell him all of the horror stories that involved her.

He purses his lips. "I should have known after seeing how everyone looked at her on campus."

I laugh. "Your love life's pretty funny, but I'll have to say, mine's joke of the decade. I've only had one relationship and it ended in a week."

He frowns with a slight grin as if in disbelief. "You? A relationship for only a week? Any guy wouldn't let you go _that_ easily."

"Any _straight_ guy. He turned out to be gay and only had me because he couldn't accept it." I corrected.

All of a sudden, Henry bursts out in laughter. I turn red, slightly regretting about telling him but remembering how glum he was just now, maybe it was for the best.

I punch him on his arm lightly. "It's still lights out and people are sleeping, Henry." I chastise him without success since I watch him throw his head back as he grins so widely I'm sure his cheeks hurt. He reminds me of a little boy and I reach out to hold him by the back of his head. He still laughs, but I grow closer and I mold my lips against his. I can feel his cheeks tense from the laughter and he's still smiling. My god, I made Henry Cavill laugh so hard he's having difficulty trying to stop even as I kiss him. He breathes in deeply, relaxing and kisses me back before pulling away slightly.

"That was pretty intense." He tells me, referring to his bout of laughter. "And that might be the joke of the decade, but you're mine now and I can assure you, I'm very straight."

I can't help but giggle. "Oh, I wasn't worried at all." I reply.

He raises his hands, placing them at the sides of my face and plants one more kiss on my lips. I can't help but smile wider. "Will it be okay if I take a look at your laptop?"

Henry pulls away and nods without a hint of hesitation. "Go ahead."

I grin wildly, opening up his MacBook again and quickly closing the tab of his emails. I look through his desktop until I find an application that makes me whip my head towards his direction. " _World of Warcraft_?" I ask in disbelief. "Oh my god, I play this too! Well, I used to until I started my year for my doctorate."

He shrugs. "My guilty pleasure. Keeps the stress from everyday life off my head."

I squeal in delight, opening the application and I choose to play under his account. As soon as I arrive at the online arena, I see players of a guild greeting Henry as I'm using his character. I'm about to respond when he reaches for the MacBook, wanting to type something into the chat. He then sends it in and what he says in it makes my forehead crumple at him. "Wow, you don't trust me with your character, do you? 'Take it easy today, my girlfriend is playing using my character.'" I imitate his voice as best as I can.

He chuckles at my poor impersonation. "If you haven't been playing for months, it's best I warn the boys in advance before we lose anything."

I pout. "Wow, you have trust issues with me." I joke.

He shakes his head, rolling his eyes as he chastely kisses the temple of my forehead. "I just don't want to lose my position in the game, that's all."

"That still directly translates to trust issues."

"Ophelia, my dear smart-ass, if you say anything else, I'm not letting you play the game."

I smirk. "You're gonna put your money where your mouth is." I turn back to the game and start by going directly into the arena. I glance at Henry, and I swear he's sweating upon seeing me going against my opponent. I try to make him even more nervous by taking risky moves. So far, seeing him tortured like this is something I definitely will want to see again. He watches closely as my opponent seems to be on a higher level than Henry's avatar, and in blink of an eye, I use my secret weapon, defeating the opponent swiftly. 

I turn to look at him to see his current expression. He glances back and forth at me and the screen, his mouth opening and closing as if he's got something to say, but the execution isn't happening. I grin at him. "Do you still have trust issues or are you now confident, even if it's a _tiny_ bit?"

He frowns at me, still unable to talk. In the end, he simply takes over the Macbook slowly, logging out without saying his goodbyes to his guild and shuts down the gadget in silence. He clears his throat before looking at me. "So, shall we go back to the bet?"

I laugh. "Is this because I managed to defeat that guy?"

"Uhm, no, it isn't."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Oh come on! You were obviously wrong about me! What, you can't handle a girl who is better than you at computer games? My WoW level is higher than yours."

He finally cracks a smile, shaking his head. "Sure, having a girlfriend who is levels higher than me at my game is a bit of an ego-bruiser, but you really have got some tricks and skills. When we play this next time, you're going to have to teach me these." 

I ruffle his dark hair with my hand, giggling. "Alright, fine. Now, as you were saying?"

"The bet," he reminds me.

"I've got a hundred pounds on standby, I'm ready."

He reaches into his pocket, fishing out his wallet. He flips it open and takes a couple of crisp and fresh £50 notes from a thin stack separated from US currency. He flips his wallet back, keeps it and puts it on the mini-table in front of him. Afterwards, I dig in my bag for my bills. Five crumpled £20 notes are retrieved from the small pockets of my bag and I place them on my own table as well. We've got our cash in place, now all there is is to now see who wins the bet.

"Moment of truth, Henry Cavill— do you love me or not?" I ask. My slight nerves are masked well in my voice.

The silence becomes tense. His blue eyes flicker from my £100 to my face. He takes his time, slowly killing me as thoughts creep into my mind that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to bet on this. After all, this cash is all I have until I find the ATM to withdraw some money. Also, it's highly unlikely for someone to fall in love in such a short time. Scientifically, it'd take six months to actually be in love. Seven hours barely met the bare minimum.

As the silence thickens, my confidence disintegrates piece by piece. _Maybe_ I shouldn't have suggested this bet. I'm risking a hundred that should be my taxi fare and my heart on a famous sought-after an actor loved by the world with looks of a Greek god, a heart of gold and a wide variety of women he can choose from. He has everything and I have, well, an above average life but nothing that could be compared to his. Slowly, I'm falling apart. I've invested so much time before this flight on this man I know I'll never have and I should be prepared for rejection if we ever meet. Now that we've met, I don't know why I'm _rejecting_ rejection...

I inhale deeply, trying not to let any tear fall as my sight blurs. We're still facing each other, but my eyes can't look at his face anymore. I sigh shakily, grabbing my cash to place on his table as a silent admission of defeat before turning away from him. He doesn't react as I lean into my seat and try to squeeze my eyes shut as if it's a bad dream. If only it was. The first tear drops sideways as my seat sinks deeper to the floor so that I can sleep. I try to steadily handle my emotions but I'm a wreck.

For a few minutes, I lay in silence facing away from Henry. I can't bear to look at him. It's obviously rejection if he doesn't say anything.

I feel a hand on my back pushing me gently, and I comply by scooting a little to the side. Warmth quickly envelopes me from behind and an arm wraps around my waist.

"What's your full name?" Henry asks. All of a sudden, anger flares up from my chest and makes its way to my lips fast.

"I ask you if _you love me_ and you ask for _my full name_? What kind of sick person are you?!" I hiss and turn around, looking him in the eyes as fury fuels my bravado.

His eyes stay unreadable and he repeats his question again. "What's your full name?"

I stare at him, but the longer I do so, the more my anger subsides with despair taking over its place. I don't want to fight any longer, so I give in. "Ophelia Maude Harper Beaumont." I whisper, my voice cracking as I look down again. The close proximity is killing me. He's lying down on my seat beside me. Luckily the seats in the cabin are spacious enough for two people to share.

He purses his lips, his hand grazing across my cheek. "You're rather beautiful, do you know that?" He murmurs. "Smooth skin, bright gray eyes, velvet brown hair... When you said that you only had one boyfriend in your lifetime, I'll have to admit, I was surprised. I mean, what kind of man would let you go? Yes, that guy that you dated was gay, but I'd give being with you a go if I was him. You're gorgeous, intelligent and can sure talk someone's ear off if you don't have enough restraint to do so." Unfortunately, I giggle quietly about that although the heartache is still present.

"You won the bet." He finally says, and it takes a while to sink into my head.

I blink, flustered. "I... I—what?" I stammer.

"The reason why I asked you for your full name is because I want to do a grand proclamation of love for you so here it is," he starts, and the new flow of tears in my eyes that threaten to come are egged on by surprise. "Ever since you turned to look at me for the first time, it was already love at first sight. I've never been in love with someone so quickly that I just know that my future is up to you. I'm willing to drop everything and go if you ask me to. Ophelia Maude Harper Beaumont, I am in love with you and you've just won the bet."

I stare at him in disbelief. Oh my god. "Well, I've loved you longer." I finally gasp. "Oh my god, do I really have enough cash now to grab snacks before I head back home?"

He laughs at my reaction. "Yes, now you do."

"But... But are you sure that you want this? I mean, the last time you dated a college student, that didn't end well." I say.

"She's an undergrad, barely an adult. Now you, you're a graduate pursuing a PhD. You're at a much higher standard than her and that's what I need but I don't know whether a woman like you would be happy with me." He admits, and I shake my head, chuckling.

"What do you mean? You're rich and famous, fantastic in the looks department, making your way quickly through Hollywood and gaining fans everywhere. Other than that, you're an amazing person. From what I've heard, you've given to charities and support our Royal Marines. I don't think there's anything lacking about you, Henry. I'd be more than happy with you even without material things." I assure him.

"Well, while you're more than happy with me, I'll be breathless, dizzy, in a flurry of emotions and irrevocably in love with you." He kisses the top of my nose as his thumb grazes across the nape of my back. I hum in bliss. In a matter of time, my dream came true. Oh my god, what have I done to actually have him?

He probably noticed the look on my face since he swoops down to capture my lips with his gently. The blood thumps in my ears and the adrenaline in my body goes through the roof. I really do love him and he loves me— he's loved me since he saw my face. He pulls away, leaning his forehead against mine. He makes me feel like I'm in a Nicholas Sparks movie. I sigh, and soon enough, a tear spills. I pull away from Henry and reach for a napkin. 

"You're lucky that Too Faced made a waterproof version of their _Better than Sex_ mascara, or else you'd be responsible for the horrible streaks of black on my face." I tell him and he laughs.

"Well, neither of us would want that, wouldn't we?" He goes along with my light comment. Suddenly, his eyes light up. "I think I know why."

I shake my head at him in response. "Know why what?"

"I think I know why you don't like Lois Lane," he says. "Is it because you're _not_ her?"

I frown, fidgeting slightly. "No."

"Hmm." He muses. "Sure."

"Henry." I warn.

"What?" He asks, unaffected by my tone.

"I'm not jealous of Lois Lane. She's literally a fictional character. Drop this!"

"No, until you admit it."

I shake my head. "No can do."

He shoots a look but allows it to slide. After a few moments, he frowns. "I feel like I've known you for a very long time. It feels like we've known each other beyond these past eight hours on this plane. I've just never felt like that before. It just _feels right_."

I'm genuinely curious— I felt like he didn't feel that we fit together until now. So it isn't all in my head after all, even after the bet? What was happening was true? I decide to not lurk any longer in that area until he tells me so properly so that we can avoid miscommunication. 

I grab a fresh pack of gummy and raise my legs to the chair, hugging them as I lean my head against his shoulder. I tear open the pack and offer him the first piece before I start snacking.

"That's breakfast, huh?" Henry asks as he chews on his gummy.

"No, I'm just snacking." I reply. "Speaking of breakfast, don't you think you should get back to your seat? If the flight attendant finds us like this, she's going to give me the ultimate stink-eye."

He bursts out in laughter. "That's what you think, huh?"

"She will! Have you not seen the way women look at you? Even if you're not famous at all, you're still bloody attractive!" I defend myself. "It should be illegal for you to even be _this_ good-looking."

His laughter fades and he smiles gently, shaking his head. "My looks are the source of me getting women, but also getting none at all."

I frown, bemused by his puzzling comment.

"You see, yes, I do get the women, but then in the end, they're all the ones who don't truly understand me." He explains. "However, you're here already and there's nothing left for me to look for anymore."

"Henry," I sigh, my hand on the side of his face. "aren't you glad that you ended up in business class now?"

He rolls his eyes at my unexpectedly humorous reply, but his smile still stands. "Not really, I still prefer first class since I don't have to put up with incorrigible, bizarre women next to me."

"Me? Incorrigible?" I scoff. "I think you're the incorrigible one here. You're just saying that because I have the skills to beat you at gaming."

"You want to bet who wins at gaming when we arrive in London?" He challenges.

"Whoever loses has to pay for our next proper date." I tilt my chin at him.

"Deal." He replies. He then glances around before moving back to his seat. "The flight attendants are making their rounds now." 

I look at where his eyes are locked on and watch as an air stewardess walks along the narrow pathway with a cart. She's passing out food trays and she's approaching our row. I wrap up my pack of gummy and wait for my food to come. Finally, I catch sight of the cart as the stewardess pauses at our lane. 

"Good morning Mr. Cavill," she greets Henry first. As someone in the service sector, she's not good at hiding her emotions, including the obvious desire when looking at Henry. He doesn't seem to be aware though, as he greets back in a friendly manner. She beams when he acknowledges her. "I hope you had a good night's rest." She says.

"I did, it was better than other flights I've gotten on." He replies.

"Hopefully we get to see you here again, then?" She inquires skillfully. I don't intervene— I want to see how others are like when in his presence. 

He sucks his teeth, making a sound as if he's considering. "Maybe." He finally says.

She seems rather happy with his reply even though it isn't definite. "Breakfast?"

"Yes please." Henry nods and she grabs a tray from her cart, conveniently rubbing her arm against his as she places it on his small table. 

"The chefs make rather splendid meals so I hope you enjoy it." She says, grinning widely at him before starting to push her cart. I watch in horror as my stomach grumbles and I'm about to call for her when Henry beats me to it.

"Excuse me, miss?" He starts, and almost immediately does she turn her head, her eyes lit with hope.

"Yes?" She flutters her lashes at him. 

He wrinkles his forehead. "You didn't give my girlfriend her breakfast tray."

She stares at him in shock, registering the words before her eyes stray to me. They flicker between us and the surprise clears up from them. She flushes, grabbing my food tray to pass to me. She catches my gaze for a second and instantly, she makes it clear that she doesn't like me. I'm about to burst into laughter but I don't want to anger her so I give her an angelic smile. She silently apologizes without meaning it and rushes with her cart to the next row.

I look to Henry. "I thought you'd almost forgotten about me."

"I don't think I ever will." He smoothly responds and grins a boyish smile at me. 

I instantly melt. "You've got to stop doing that." I tell him.

"Doing what?" He feigns innocence as he tilts his head slightly, looking at me.

"Giving cheesy answers! I'm not good at those."

He reaches out to my cheek and tucks a lock behind my ear. "It's obvious on your face." He shrugs. "I just like to tease you and loosen you up a bit like that."

"To get what you want!" I huff, unwrapping the utensils from their plastics. 

"And what is it that I want?" He cocks an eyebrow at me.

"Well, I don't know, sex?" 

His blue eyes darken at the mention of the word. "That's what I want right now, you say?"

"That may be what _you_ want, but what _I_ want is my breakfast." I respond, tapping his hand twice before digging into my meal. "You can wreck me some other time."

"And I will, trust me." He promises. 

"Hmm, I'm betting on it." 

* * *

An earphone slips out of my ear while I'm listening to Jessie Ware, making my head snap up. It's been at least fifteen minutes since our trays were cleared and since the silence was comfortable between us, I decided to create my own playlist with the airline's selection of music. Unfortunately, my beloved seat partner had to stop my playlist just when I was enjoying it.

I turn my head towards Henry. Throughout the past few hours, this constant image that I've had for years of Movie Star Henry had slowly dissipated. Now, it's more of Annoying and Sexy Gamer Henry with the charm to get on everyone's good side. "What is it?" I ask him as I glance at him tangling my earphone wire around his fingers. 

"Can we, you know...?" He reluctantly left his sentence hanging as he shrugged.

"'Can we' what?" 

He shoots a look at me. "You know that if I say the word, I'll lose my manliness."

"What, 'cuddle'?" I prompt. "Oh come on, we're like the only two in this seat. I doubt a lot of people will hear it if you say it in a softer voice."

He purses his lips, tilting his head before he shakes it. "I don't think that I'll need to ask about this." He simply envelopes me with his arms and his masculine scent. Knowing my cue, I move over to his seat so that it won't be uncomfortable with the armrests restricting us. I remove my other earphone, but he stops me before I put it away. "No, we're going to listen to this together. So far, your song choices are... fine."

"'Fine'?" I chuckle. "Jessie Ware's _Sweet Talk_ is one of the best songs that compliments her voice so well and I love the lyrics!"

"Uh, you've got any rock or rap on this playlist?"

I narrow my eyes at him momentarily before responding. "Well, I have the Goo Goo Dolls and Jay-Z."

"Hmm, good choices." He hummed in approval. "Now, let's switch to that."

I switch the song to _Iris_ by the Goo Goo Dolls and cock an eyebrow at him. "Happy?"

"Very. Now this, _this_ is what I call a song. Number one in five Billboard charts all at once. The violins playing in the song are spine-chilling and the guitar solo is _bloody_ fantastic. Oh, the lyrics are a masterpiece and this song _never_ gets old." He tells me, and I agree with him mentally since I don't want to show him that he's right. And as the song plays, he intertwines his fingers with mine. I don't think too much about it as I'm slowly about to fall asleep in his arms when all of a sudden, my ear without the earphone perked up at the air steward's voice overhead us.

"Ladies and gentlemen, as we start our descent, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure your seat belt is securely fastened and all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins. Thank you.” 

My head turns towards Henry's direction and I find him looking at me as well. He frowns, an unspeakable emotion displaying on his face. His fingers tighten around mine as his blue eyes almost never leaves me. "The plane is descending." He says the obvious but all I hear is the inference and I'm torn up about it. Unwillingly, I peel myself off of his seat and go back to mine, locking myself into place with my seat belt. However, his hand never leaves mine, even as he straps his seat belt around himself. He turns to me, almost like he wants to say something but I hear a ringtone play for a second. He pauses, fishes out his cellphone and stares at it before sighing. "My publicist, Jennifer, she told me to call her the moment I land because apparently she's got something to tell me and she wants to meet me at my house." He tells me before I can even ask.

"So you're going home straight from the airport?" I ask.

"I have to. Plus, I think I'll be jetlagged. It's work also and I can't avoid it much."

I chuckle. "Well, I'm going to have to head straight to my parents' since people are expecting me." I tell him. "I bet someone threw some big homecoming party." I joke.

"At least it's family that waits for you. For me, it's... work." He purses his lips. "I like what I do, but sometimes the passion for it wanes when people expect."

"I know what you mean. I mean, when there's a deadline, there's not much motivation." I shrug. "Deadlines are difficult to deal with when inspiration comes late."

 "And deadlines are difficult to deal with afterwards when you just don't know what else is there for you." He says under his breath which I unintentionally catch.

I know there's just so much in store for him. He's so talented and handsome and smart and kind, he needs someone who can actually be there for him. When I'm finally 36,000 feet down, I have things to deal with, problems to settle and a life to live on my own. We're on completely different sides of a coin— how can we ever exist together when neither sides can see each other? He's got movies to film, charities to get involved in and women's feet to sweep off while I have a PhD to complete and jobs I need to apply for that will take me places where I'm needed. How can two be so similar and different at the same time? I didn't intend for this to be a "fling" but I had absolutely no idea that _we_ were going to happen.

Looking at his face again, I reach up as far as I can with the seat belt around me and plant a kiss on his cheek before kissing his knuckles. "This is an aeroplane ride I wouldn't mind being on for a bit longer." I admit.

He smiles a gentle but sad smile. "Ophelia... why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like it's the last time you'll ever see me?" He jokes.

"Because after this flight, it will."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, after this flight, we're getting off of this plane separately and there won't be any contact between us. Henry, I'm sorry."

His smile falters. "Ophelia—"

"I don't belong in your life, Henry." I reluctantly say the words as I look at him but avoid his eyes. "I'm so sorry if you think I led you on but these feelings are real, but when we land... we've got lives to get back to and it definitely won't be easy seeing each other if we continue this outside of the plane."

He frowns, trying to understand. "You don't... You don't want to do this?"

"Henry, oh my god, that's not what I meant." I shake my head. "I want this, I wish we could continue this but for now, we can't. There are too many priorities waiting for me on the ground, I just can't continue this. This is a bad time for me. Oh god, I shouldn't have made you fall for me. I'm so sorry, Henry. I really am."

He doesn't say anything for a moment and I fear about his next words. He closes his eyes and my heart breaks. He probably doesn't want to see me. "Ophelia, it wasn't your fault that I fell for you. I... Ophelia, I love you, and if it's a bad time to be together, I'll wait for you."

I blink twice at him blankly. "What?"

He sighs, opening his blue eyes as they meet mine. "Ophelia, you've become so much more to me in a short matter of time. You made me feel more things than anyone else ever could in _ten hours_. I don't know what kind of spell you've casted or what potion you've placed in my food, but I don't think I ever want to get rid of these feelings." He confesses as he grips my cool and clammy hands. "I _love_ you. You're crazy if you think I'll up and go if you end this."

I purse my lips, my voice threatening to break. "Henry, out of all the girls out there, you chose _me_! You don't need to wait for me, go and find someone who makes you happier than I can. I'm sure there is someone better than me."

"I've dated all kinds of girls, ranging from good to bad but they don't make me feel intense emotions like this even if I've been with them for years. I want you, I need you. I crave for you and I've never felt like that towards a girl. I'm not going to be with some other woman who won't make me as happy as you do." He tells me. 

Before I can even respond, the airline announcement bell chimes and the pilots speaks for the last time. "Ladies and gentleman, welcome to Heathrow Airport. Local time is fourteen oh-seven hours and the temperature is seventeen degrees Celsius..."

I glance out of the window and find that we've landed in London and the airplane was slowing down, as if ready to dock and allow passengers to unload from it. Never in my life have I hated London the moment I come back from a holiday. I turn back to look at Henry and his hand slides up to my jawline. He pulls me in for a kiss and I melt in his arms one last time. I kiss him back with fervor, trying to memorize his lips, the way he kissed and just how he tasted... 

I pull away hesitantly and give a quick look around. One of the passengers has already stood up and is currently making her way out. Before she can pass us by, my hands slip out of Henry's so that no one can see. I don't want anyone giving any media source any gossip about me and Henry. If anyone else were to know about this, people I know and don't know would hound me for information. I look down and notice feet shuffling to get out of the plane. I don't dare to look up. I want my last memory to be that very kiss. 

After a few moments, Henry stands up first. From what I can assume, he takes out his carry-on bag from the compartment above our heads and he lingers afterwards, his shoes toward me. I breathe a sigh before his shoes are out of my sight. Finally left alone at our seats, I slouch into my seat as I glance at him moving forward, his bag over his shoulder. He doesn't sneak a look at me and simply leaves the aircraft. 

I sniff back the tears aching to flow and grab my bag, heading out with the queue of people. As soon as I manage to, I breathe in the air as deep as I can. I really needed to get out or else I was going to break down there. I make my way to the immigration, passport in hand and quickly clear it. Deep down, I want to see Henry again but I can't. Shoving my hands into the jacket I had on, I pause and then look down at it. I still have his jacket on. My head snaps up. I really hope he's doing fine without his jacket since it's a little cooler than the warm Los Angeles sun. I shake my head, a small part of me chastising myself for not returning it as I walk out to the arrival hall.

As soon as I do, I notice the large group of paparazzi circling Henry and shooting questions whilst snapping away with their camera for pictures. Some of them are asking about Tara, others focus on his movie projects. 

I sigh, walking past him and the paparazzi and walk out of the airport, hailing for a taxi. One swiftly comes my way and stops at the curb in front of me. I open the door to get in and I have one foot in when I hear the paparazzi becoming louder. I glance over my shoulder unwittingly.

He's looking. I silently gasp at the intensity of his eyes as we share a quick gaze, acknowledging everything that has happened. Even as the media try to get answers from him, he doesn't listen to them. I can see a switch flip in his mind and he now looks like he wants to catch up to me. Before he does, I manage him one last small smile before I fully enter the taxi. I adjust myself in the leather seat before closing the car door beside me. 

The cabbie glances at me. "Where to, miss?"

"Oxshott. I'll tell you the way when we reach there." I tell him. 

"Oh, that's a long way and the fare isn't going to be cheap," he comments.

I fish out my purse from my bag, wondering if I've got enough money. I stare at the £100 bill— I won the bet and it actually happened. I keep it and chuckle, masking my crestfallen expression. "I've got more than enough, sir." I reply.

He nods, starting the taxi meter and then drives off. I look out of the window— security has been dispatched and the paparazzi has dispersed a little. I watch as he frowns, his blue eyes dim and he avoids the camera flashes. His head then turns to my direction but doesn't look. I bite my bottom lip, turning away so that he won't see me. 

And as I sit there, I know that I won't be able to avoid him forever; he'll be on my television, movie posters, advertisements and on glossy magazines, they'll be a constant reminder for me but I wonder— with no constant reminders around him physically, will I fade from his mind unlike how he'll never fade from mine?


	3. Chapter 3

"That will be £94.90, miss." The taxi driver tells me as soon as we pull up in front of my family home. I sigh, looking at the house that my parents have recently moved into about two years ago. My parents really do have a taste for the finer life. 

I grab my purse, taking out £100 from my purse and hand it to the driver. "Keep the change. Thank you for the ride." I say before getting out and unloading my luggage bags from the boot of the taxi. After I do, the vehicle drives away from the gravel driveway of the house and onto the tarmac. I look up at the house's exterior that's as modern on the outside as it is on the inside and try to see who might be in the house but with no luck. There are too many windows to scan through and I simply give up, dragging my bags up to the porch. Quickly unlocking the door with my keys, I enter the house and frown, wondering why it's so quiet in here. "Mummy? Papa?" I say out loud to see if anyone replies. After a few seconds, no response. I shake my head, grab my bags and force myself to fight gravity as I go up the stairs and into my bedroom. 

Placing my bags at the corner of my room, I then pull open my curtains and allow the cold to air my room. The scene outside of the window answers my question as to where my family were— there'a a garden party at the back with everyone gathered at the long table, passing bowls of food around. I can spot my niece and nephew, my brothers and my parents at the table. They don't seem to know that I'm back, so I decide to stay a little in my bedroom before I can go down.

Suddenly, the familiar feel of a furry body pushing itself against my leg appears. I glance down and find my silver Maine Coon cat, Kraken, purring loudly and for the first time in hours, I smile. I pick Kraken up and cuddle him in my arms, kissing his cheeks. He yowls happily as I carry him and I walk away from the window, placing him on my desk. I pat his head a few times as my eyes linger to a framed photograph I had printed out months ago. 

It's a selfie Henry had posted of himself on Instagram and I thought it would be a nice reminder of him on my desk. Now, it isn't as nice as I hoped it would be. 

"Mow," Kraken tells me loudly and I kiss him on his forehead, hugging him. 

"I missed you, boy." I reply. He purrs in response and kneads his head against my palm before sniffing the jacket I'm wearing. I almost forget about it, but I try not to think about it as I then head downstairs to join my family for the garden dinner they were having. Kraken follows me down the stairs and walks beside me as I push past the glass door to get to the back of the house. Heads snap up and smiles greet me. My name choruses from my family members at the same time and I try to smile back. 

"I was expecting you'd bring back an American boyfriend." My older brother Francis says as I walk to my father first to give him a kiss on the cheek. 

"Well, that was a bad expectation," I respond. "Where's Lily?"

"Ah, well, she's got something urgent at work so I've got to handle the kids alone." Francis tells me and my niece and nephew, George and Priscilla wave at me. I wave back and take my seat beside them. 

"So how was your trip to Los Angeles?" Mummy asks as she passes the salad dressing to my younger brother Charles, her gray eyes glancing at me as she addresses me. 

"It was fun. The girls are still in Los Angeles and they last told me they're planning on going to Santa Monica tomorrow." I say.

Charles pauses. "Hey, I remember seeing some candid photos of Henry Cavill at Heathrow, he flew in from LA too and arrived in London around the same time you should have arrived. Did you manage to catch a glimpse of him or anything?"

I freeze up just as I'm about to pour myself a glass of fruit punch. In a second, I decide to ignore his question and hope that the question slides, but it doesn't. Kraken jumps onto my lap and sniffs the air before curling up on my lap as if he knows. 

"Ophelia," Charles calls me and I look at him. "Henry Cavill was at Heathrow at the same time as you." 

I quickly shake my head, avoiding his eyes. "I didn't know that."

He frowns. "Really? I thought you're crazy about the lad."

I mutter, "I'm not as crazy as the others." 

He snorts in response but doesn't say anything. Instead, he decides to escalate on the subject. "He flew in from Los Angeles as well so it's possible that you both took the same flight together. I'm rather surprised that you haven't freaked out yet. I mean, can you imagine _you_ actually being in the same flight as him? It's a miracle you didn't die."

"You're unusually quiet today." Papa notes as he picks out the bitter gourd slices from his salad to place at the side. He glances at me. "Are you okay?"

I try my best to smile. "I'm just tired from the flight. That and the jetlag." 

"Now what's the time difference between here and Los Angeles?" 

"Eight hours, Papa." I reply. He raises his eyebrows but doesn't say anything else. 

Finally, the conversation stops and settles into a comfortable silence except for the occasional giggles from George and Priscilla. This is what I like most about my family— there's no pressure to talk since everyone likes it the way it is, unless someone's got a big problem that everyone needs to talk about. Thank god no one has noticed that I'm the one with the big problem here. 

After I'm done with my dinner, I pick up my plate and utensils, making my way silently to the indoor kitchen. Kraken follows me and stops when he meets his food bowl and water while I place my used items into the sink. I'm too tired to clean them for tonight. Shrugging off the jacket, I walk up to my bedroom and hang it at the coat hanger before I strip myself off of my clothes and dip myself into warm water in the tub. I tie my hair in a high bun and hold a bath bomb in my hand as it dissolves in the water, turning it turquoise as I try to relieve myself from everything that has happened today, but with no luck.

As soon as I reach out for my universal remote that turns on the radio, the radio DJ says something that makes my head snap up. 

"And now we're back with one of Britain's best exports to Hollywood with us today, Superman himself, Henry Cavill, is here in the studio today. Let's welcome him once again!" He announces and I hear applause from a small amount of people in the background. A part of me wants to shut it off, but I'm too curious to do so. Instead, I go ahead and torture myself by listening to the radio some more.

Henry chuckles, and I'm reminded of the mischievous glint in his eyes that normally accompanied it. "Well thank you again, it's great to be here today."

"Well, you've made a name for yourself in Hollywood by playing one of the most iconic superheroes ever, presented at the Oscars this year and you're not bad when it comes to looks. Honestly, I know you will last in Hollywood. You will." The DJ tells him. "I understand that you just came in straight from the airport so I don't want to keep you for long."

"Actually, I dropped by my house but I did come in from Los Angeles. I didn't get much sleep from the flight."

The DJ laughs. "Not many people do. So Henry, before the break, we talked about your projects, work and charities you're supporting. Now, if you don't mind me asking on behalf of women from all over the world, are you single and ready to mingle?" 

"Well, uhm, I _am_ single but I'm not looking." Henry simply replies.

"Oh, and why is that?" 

 "Well, I've stopped. I feel like there's no point in looking anymore when you've already found the right person."

"You're keeping it very vague, Henry, so I'll keep the question very vague as well— is it anyone we know?" 

"No, she is quite possibly the least likely person anyone would think I'd be with, actually." 

I stare at the radio— I _know_ he's referring to me. _Oh, Henry..._ My chest begins to ache as I wait for the next question to be asked.

"That's quite an exclusive scoop you've given us here, thank you for sharing." The DJ says. "Okay, since we're going to close the show soon, we're giving you the final song request."

"Oh, that's difficult." Henry comments. "How about _Ophelia_ by the Lumineers?"

My heart stops. My eyes threaten to tear up. He really is serious about me.

"Is it your favorite song?"

"Definitely, definitely. I find the lyrics bittersweet and it makes it memorable." He tells the DJ. 

"I agree. Before we go, do you have any last words for our listeners? Any advice, perhaps?"

It was quiet for two seconds. "All I have to say is that whatever you want, you've got to fight harder than you ever have so that you won't regret that you didn't." Henry concludes, then his voice becomes softer, gentler. "I didn't fight hard enough and I have my regrets but I'm waiting."

I bite my lower lip— I do have my regrets as well but nobody can ever juggle having everything all at once. It's an impossible feat, and I had let him go because he has his entire life and career ahead of him, he has a wider variety of options than me. I don't want to hold him back. That just isn't fair. 

"Alright listeners, there you have it, a quote that applies to everyone from Henry Cavill himself. And now, the Lumineers with _Ophelia_." 

The notable start of the song plays and I don't know how to react on the outside. The tears want to come out but they're stuck somehow. I want to release some emotion but I find it impossible to now.

I then find myself singing along to the song softly. I know this song and used to be ecstatic that there was a song with my name as a title, but now it doesn't have the same appeal to me anymore. 

Two knocks on my bathroom door raises my head. "It's Francis. Can I come in?" 

I dip myself deeper into the colored water until my neck touches it. Luckily, the intensity of the color doesn't allow anything below the surface to be seen. "Come in." I say out loud, clearing my throat. I turn off the radio just as the song ends and my brother opens the door.

Francis, with the same gray eyes and brown hair as I have, can pass off as my identical twin even though he's four years older than me. He's holding Henry's jacket by two fingers as he leans against the door frame. "So, I'm heading out to pick Lily up from work so that we can finally start our stay here. Do you mind watching the kids for a bit? I can't seem to find Mummy and Papa and Charlie is out as well."

"Sure. I'll be out within a minute." I tell him.

"By the way, whose jacket is this?" He lifted the black jacket up. "Saw you wearing it just now, but I know how you like your clothes slightly form-fitting and not too big on you. This falls in the opposite of the latter category."

"I found it back in Los Angeles and I just started wearing it because it's warm and comfortable." I lied smoothly.

"Hmph," he looks at the tag on the jacket and raises his eyebrows. "Well, whoever this belonged to, this costs a lot. Must be a rich lad, so I doubt this wouldn't matter much to him." I don't reply. Instead, I purse my lips and wait for him to leave. "Alright then, I'm going now. Watch the kids, alright? No sweet snacks now, they just had their dinner."

"Okay then. Drive safe." I tell him. He grins and closes the door behind him as he disappears bit by bit. When he does, I breathe a sigh of relief. I get out of my tub and dry myself in my bathrobe before heading out. Priscilla has turned on my television and is watching _In the Night Garden_ while George is playing on his iPad. Both sat on my bed occupied before they saw me. I smile at them, grabbing my nightgown from my luggage bag. "Hello guys," I greet them.

"Hi," Priscilla replies promptly. I enter my bathroom again to put my clothes on and drain the tub. "Have you got anything for us from America?" She asks.

I reenter my bedroom, grabbing the souvenirs for Priscilla and George from my bag. I pass it to Priscilla who gasped the moment she saw it. "Of course I did. There you go."

"Gryffindor robes!" She exclaims. "Thank you Fifi!"

"Aw, your welcome." I pat her on her head. "George, don't you want to look at your robe? It's Ravenclaw."

"Later but thank you." He responds without looking up from his iPad. 

"So sorry I couldn't make it to your birthday parties, loves. I hope this makes up for my absence."

"Absolutely! Dad told us that we'll go for a holiday in America soon. How is it like there?" Priscilla questions.

"Well, all I can tell you is that it's different than Britain. So how was your birthday parties?" 

"Fun! I feel different now, I feel like I'm older. I feel like I'm six!" 

"How about you, George?" 

"I feel the same. I don't really feel seven." 

"Why's that so?" 

"Age is just a number." 

I raise my eyebrows. "Well, uh, someone's been watching a lot of philosophical shows." I fail to mask my surprise at his vague but deep response.

"I don't watch those, I'm watching _Sesame Street_ ," he replies.

Curiously, I lean towards him to see what he's watching on the iPad and in an unexpected twist, there's a reminder of him again. He's genuinely smiling, blissfully unaware of how much more beautiful he is as he laughs along with the puppets. And then I remember those smiles directed at me. 

"I didn't know Superman's actually English!" George says.

I want to look away but I can't. "Yeah, he is." I reply, clearing my throat.

"Fifi, isn't that him in the picture on your desk?" Priscilla points out.

George pauses the video when he hears it, gets off the bed and grabs the photograph from the study desk. "You know Superman, Fifi?" He asks excitedly.

I hesitate upon telling them. "Well, Superman is a character. His name's Henry."

"How did you know him?" 

If the kids were to say anything about Henry and I to an adult, I doubt they'll believe them. "I met him on a plane. He was very nice and charming." I summarize quickly.

Priscilla widens her deep brown eyes. "Is he your boyfriend?" She's jumping in her seat as her and her brother's eyes are trained on me.

"He used to be."

She pouts. "Why?"

Sighing, I place a hand on her shoulder. "We are totally different people, Priss. I knew we wouldn't have the time to be together any longer. He's busy and so am I." 

"But if he's really important to you, it wouldn't be a problem." George pitches in. "Nobody isn't busy enough to not be able to make time for things and people they prioritize first."

I stare at my seven-year-old nephew, speechless. I then try to chuckle to break the silence. "'Prioritize'?" I joke. "Has _Sesame Street_ been teaching big words the moment I stopped watching it?"

George seems to know I'm trying to dodge his opinion and he crosses his arms, turning away from me. Priscilla notices her older brother's reaction and mimics it. I sigh. These kids are tough.

"Okay, George, look." I start. "You know how school has a schedule, right? They tell you what to study, when to do it and where. I'm still in school and school isn't a priority I can just ditch for a man. School gives you a better future so that you can have a better life to live. I've seen too many people drop their education for love that didn't last and in the end they suffered. If I were to focus on anything else for more than two hours, marks that could have been obtained goes down the drain like that. I have to focus first. Nobody ever gets everything all at once and manages to juggle it immediately. Start with a few and then grow my priorities over time. Unfortunately, Henry came at the wrong time."

"Life _never_ comes at the right time." He simply tells me off, and my points shatter with that one sentence. Damn, this kid is either landing himself a place in law or he's going to be a great motivational speaker. 

Looking at the time, I purse my lips. "Okay, the end, we're going to end this for tonight because it's now your bedtime. Do you guys want to sleep in my bed or get to your rooms?" 

Without an answer, George takes Priscilla's hand and his iPad, walking out of my bedroom without a word.

I groan. "Goodnight!" I shout.

"Goodni—" Priscilla squeaks before George shushes her as they walk to their bedroom. 

I roll my eyes, ashamed of my failure at an argument with a seven-year-old boy (it doesn't help that he gives killer one-liners). I turn the television off without bothering to change the channel from _CBeebies_ to something else first and tuck myself into my bed. Picking up the framed photograph of Henry that George had left on my bed, I can't help but stare at Henry's face. I'm starting to regret telling George and Priss about him.

I place the photo at my bedside table, face down so that I won't have to torture myself accidentally the moment I wake up. With a flick of a switch, the lights are off and my exhausting night ends.

* * *

Pulling up at the car park near my college, I gulp back my bitterness about being back on campus. I haven't written with a pen and paper since forever and I know my handwriting will be crap if any of my supervisors request for a handwritten essay. 

It's the first day back in Oxford and I already have a morning class to attend. I pull up my high-waisted flared pants and touch up on my lipstick since I dropped by Starbucks for a caffeine boost before arriving here. I rest the strap of my handbag on my wrist and step out of my Audi A8. Ugh, I'm still not ready for classes.

Student leaders, mainly undergraduates, greet the dead minds of the general student population coming in for classes. It's pretty quiet at Magdalen College as I enter the building to get to my first class. All I need is to make it through my first class and then I'll have five hours to kill (which will gladly be spent back in my bed at my apartment).

I enter the class, placing my bag on the lecturer's desk. Taking a seat at it, I unpack my laptop and note the undergrads trickling into the room and taking their seats. Quickly, I plug the wire from the projector to my laptop and slip out the attendance list for this term.

Right on the dot, at eight in the morning, I start the roll call. "Okay, uhm, Constance Adams?" A hand raises upon hearing the name and I scribble a tick beside the name on the piece of paper. "William Alastair?" 

"Here."

"Katherine Anderson?" 

"Here."

"Denise Bennett?" 

"Present."

"Laura Brown?" I say, but no one says anything. I glance up to check if anyone is raising their hands. "Laura Brown?" I repeat but no response. I sigh, skipping the name as I continue ticking names on the list. 

Finally, when I'm done, I count how many absentees. As per usual, there's only one or two missing and I look at those who came for their first day. It's also their very first class they're attending at Oxford as an undergraduate. I see a little piece of myself in all of them— wide-eyed hopefuls who think being accepted into Oxford is the best thing that's ever happened to them. After seven years of being in this university starting from my first year as an undergrad to now, the feeling of that has subsided and it's never been more boring. 

Shaking my head, I take a deep breath and try my best to smile. "Good morning to you all, I'm Ophelia Beaumont but you can address me as Miss Beaumont. I'm a graduate taking my DPhil in Classic Languages and Literature and am also going to teach you all ancient Greek as a teaching assistant." I introduce myself. "Now, if you've learnt modern Greek, it's going to be a little tricky since Greek has changed a lot over the centuries and is now what you know as modern Greek, but you shouldn't be struggling as much as your peers who've never learnt the language. For those who have learnt ancient Greek, take this as a refresher and don't be so cocky about knowing more than your friends because in the end, they might overtake you. Those of you who've never learnt the modern, medieval or ancient versions of the language at all, don't worry. Everyone's learning together at the same pace. Now..."

 My voice trails off when I hear the door open. A guy walks in and doesn't acknowledge or apologize to me for coming in late, sitting a few rows behind the rest of the students. I'm about to call out on him when he reveals his face. My feet stays rooted in place as I stare at him. My mouth dries. It's him.

Flustered, I look away and regain my equilibrium quickly so that I won't look distracted. I try my best to look at the students who don't bother enough to see who came in late and grab my marker. "Uhm, now, about projects, essays, homework, don't fuss so much about it because it will be easy but as your level of learning increases, the difficulty does too. I know you've all been told countless of times that reading up on the chapter expected to be taught about before a class is advised, and I encourage that as well. I'm sure you all have purchased your guide to ancient Greek that is approved by the faculty. If you don't have one, you can check out the libraries to see if they do but I strongly advise for you to get your own as it will come in handy when you need to write your own notes in it.

"Just in case any of you are struggling and we're not in class, you can always ring me at this number or email me. I will try to get back to you soon if you contact me through email, but if you call me, I only accept calls regarding school-related things before six in the evening." I write down my number and email address and the students quickly jot it down or snap a picture. 

"So," he starts and I unwillingly look at him. My god, he looks amazing. He's trimmed his hair a bit but the shape of his hair stays and he's in jeans and a button-down white shirt. Ugh, him in a button-down shirt is my weakness. "Before six in the evening for anything related to this class?" 

Upon hearing his voice, some of the students turn to look at him and then comes the havoc. They recognize him immediately and some whip out their phones, texting and taking photos of him while others are looking at each other with wide eyes. I try to ignore their behavioral changes as I answer him as decently as possible.

"Yes, Mr. Cavill. That is the general idea." I reply with a stoical expression.

He simply grins. "So if it's anything not related to school, I can call just about anytime?"

Oh, I see where this is going. I try to remain as professional as possible by ignoring his words. I turn around, starting my slides with the Greek alphabets when Edith Piaf's _La Vie En Rose_ plays and my pocket vibrates. I fish out my phone and find that a number I've never seen before is calling. Answering immediately, I frown, "Hello?"

"You have no idea how long I had to wait just for the school term to start." 

I end the call quickly and turn to the students and him. My annoyance level has turned up and I've gathered enough bravado to look him in the eye. "Henry, what are you even doing here?" 

The students' murmurs as they glance between us soften. I know they're wondering how their ancient Greek teaching assistant even knows a big-shot Hollywood actor.

"I'm here to find out more about Oxford and what courses I can take." Henry responds lightly.

I roll my eyes. "I'm sorry to disappoint but intake for this semester is clearly not available anymore. Next time, head to the open house instead of coming during actual school days. Now, tourists aren't allowed to sit in courses. You've got to leave the room."

He shrugs. "I don't think that's possible now." 

I'm about to ask why when I follow his gaze to the narrow door window. Female undergrads are trying to sneak a peek at him through it and I inhale deeply, absolutely stressed out about this. "All of you," I point to my students with their cellphones up taking videos for their live feeds, "phones turned off right now or else you will be sent to the dean on your first day here. Now."

Almost instantly, they comply reluctantly and I sigh, walking to the door and opening it. "All of you, get back to your courses or away from here or else I will request for the dean to see you all personally. Off!" I say out loud and it works like a charm. The big crowd of curious undergraduates disperses and I rub my temples, closing the door. "Henry, please, I'm trying to conduct a class and you're distracting everyone in the room and outside of it."

"Then I'll sit here quietly until you finish your class," he replies. I stare at him but he stares back. Even at a distance am I affected by his blue gaze. I look away, giving in as I go back to the laptop. As I familiarize the students with ancient alphabets and word structuring with them, Henry watches me intently. When the students are focused on their books, I take the time to look at him to which he returns with the smile that has always warmed my heart. 

I know I've decided that we shouldn't be together after the flight but it's been difficult being happy wholeheartedly throughout summer. It's funny how ten hours is all it takes to affect you for months.

Glancing at the time, I sigh in relief. "Let's wrap up with your very first assignment. I want you all to write me a paragraph introducing yourselves to me in ancient Greek. If you all aren't sure of how to do so, there's an example in the textbook. I want this in by the end of the weekday." 

 The students say their goodbyes as they reach the door and even look at Henry who doesn't seem to realize. Once the students leave, Henry gets down from his seat and approaches me. I don't look up as I'm packing my things to go. When I do, I'm met with a face that I haven't seen so up close a long time. 

"Hi there," he murmurs. 

I take a deep breath in and try not to break down and cry. "Henry..."

"When you were getting into the taxi, I was so close to chasing you but you were faster. I wanted to find for you but I didn't know where to start. With all the information I know about you, I didn't know how to do it until I resorted to coming here to see you. All that time waiting for this day was torture but to see you again... Ophelia, I don't want to be apart from you. You told me whatever decisions that affect the both of us will be decided by me as well but you left me and I had nowhere else to go." 

"I'm so sorry, I just didn't know how much it'd hurt when I made that decision. I just... you came back," I sniffle. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," he tells me with pure honesty in his eyes. 

"Can you kiss me?" 

He smiles, leaning in as his hands hold my forearms to pull me in closer. His eyes close and so do mine. The next thing I feel are his lips moulding on mine and I kiss him back, overwhelmed by the feel of them after months of being away from each other with no way to contact whatsoever. My heart swells as I think to myself about how incredible being in his arms again is. 

He pulls his lips away from mine and looks into my eyes, a playful smirk making its appearance. "You know, it was really very sexy watching you teach. You're a teaching vixen. If I had it my way then, I would have ravaged you immediately."

"Don't worry, you'll have it your way soon." I purr. His hand slides down to my ass and spanks me once before grabbing at it. 

"So why were you teaching? Aren't you supposed to be the student?" He asks in all seriousness even though he's still massaging my bottom. 

"Usually graduates supervise small groups of undergrads in research but the faculty got me to teach an entire undergrad course for the semester." I tell him. 

"Hmm, you must be _that_ good, huh?" 

"I don't want to brag but yes I am." I grin up at him. "I want to get out of here and get back to my place. I have sleep to catch up with. You've got no plans for today?" 

He shakes his head. "Nothing for the week, thankfully. I'm all yours."

I plant a chaste kiss on his lips. "Well, lucky me."


	4. Chapter 4

Getting out of the school inconspicuously proved to be quite a challenge with Henry, especially with all the undergraduates taking photos with their smartphones. I try not to let it bug me, but then again, whenever I 'try' and not 'do', it ends up being a failure. In the end, I find myself with my head down as I lead him to the car park. He strides around like it's nothing and is his confident, movie star self in front of everyone while I look out of place beside him.

When we're in an open-air area where I won't feel suffocated as just now, I turn to look at him. "How did you get here?" 

He glances at me. "Well, I took a taxi, believe it or not." 

"So you don't have any way to go back other than a taxi?"

"I can always call for my driver if needed." He replies simply. Walking to my car, he raises his brows. "Not bad."

"What, my car?" I prompt. "Well, I like it as well." I unlock it and he enters the passenger's seat while I get into the driver's. When I finally close the door, I sigh in relief. "I don't know how you deal with people staring."

He smirks at me. "That's the thing— I don't. I just do whatever I have to do and get on with my life."

I turn to him, unconvinced. "I doubt it's that easy."

"It is when you don't really care about what people think of you, whether it's good or bad." He shrugs. "Now, where are we going?"

"Back to my place." I tell him and the look in his eyes change. "No, I want to sleep. That is all."

"That's all?"

I narrow my eyes at him. "That's all."

"I think I can change your mind about  _just sleeping_."

"I think you can't change my mind about  _just sleeping_ ," I respond, cocking an eyebrow at him before sighing and starting the engine. "I slept at five and woke up half past six to get ready for the day." 

Suddenly, his expression changes. "You've only slept for an hour and a half? Why?"

"I was preparing for the class at the very last minute. Before that, I had finally started playing the Sims 3 again and my Sim was pregnant." I yawn. "Which reminds me, I'm going to have to check on that too when we get back."

He shook his head, rolling his eyes. "I know I should be surprised but I'm not. Are you sure you want to drive? I'm pretty sure you're very tired, especially from dealing with the students and the ones I attracted... Sorry about that."

"Ah, it's fine. I finally got to see you and honestly, that's all that matters." I admit with a soft smile on my face before my muscles tense and widen my mouth to let out a yawn unwillingly. 

He watches as I yawn and my eyes threaten to close. I stretch but it doesn't do the job. "I think it's better if I drive us back to your place." He offered. 

I pause before giving in. "Alright, fine. Hand me your phone. I'm going to type in the address." I extend my hand to him and he unlocks his phone before giving it to me. I open Google Maps and type in my address before starting the journey. Passing it to him, I get out of the car to move to the passenger's seat and he does the same, occupying my previous seat. We get settled in the seats and Henry places his phone in the holder so that he can reference to it just about anytime. Sighing, he starts to drive out of the car park and follows the directions.

I watch him as he drives us onto the main roads. He notices and grabs my hand from my lap, lacing my fingers with his. I smile at his small gesture and turn on the radio to switch between stations when suddenly, a song we both definitely know plays unexpectedly. My fingers still at the button as I'm not sure of what to do; to leave it as it is or to change it. 

Unfortunately, Henry notices. He always does. 

"You heard." He states.

"Three hours after we parted," I murmur and take a deep and shaky breath in. "I... It was still very fresh. I'm surprised nobody online guessed the fact that the title of the song you requested might be the name of the girl you were talking about."

"My parents started calling me after that interview. They asked who I was talking about... I couldn't tell them because it had only happened on the same day..." He squeezes my hand in his. "I don't want to experience that ever again, Ophelia. You are my life and I don't want to lose you anymore."

"I know." I purse my lips, looking away. "I'm really sorry about that, Henry. I just got scared because I know how much I struggle when I've got something absolutely major coming into my life because when it happens, a lot of things just crash and having someone new to truly care about wasn't the best thing to do while I have my school going on but if I prepared, I could have handled it better but now I think I can handle it. If I crash and burn..."

"If you crash and burn I'll be there to help in any way I can." He glances at me and then notices that tears are streaming down my face as my lips tremble. When we stop at a red light, his hands are off the wheel and he wipes the tears from my cheeks. He sighs, kissing my forehead. "I know you're scared but I will be there to experience it all with you. Don't worry." He holds my hand again and continues to drive when the green light flashes.

Taking his hand that's in mine, I hold it closer to me and breathe in deeply again, trying to calm myself down. I pull my legs up to my chest and place my free hand around them to hug and almost involuntarily, my eyes close from exhaustion. 

* * *

My eyes fly open as soon as my consciousness returns fully and meets the surfaces of the different leveled ceilings in my bedroom. I frown, wondering how I got here in the first place before I turn to my left side. Suddenly, I remember— Henry came back to me and now he's sleeping beside me. I wonder how he managed to open my door...

I turn to my right side and find my keys and bag on the bedside table. Oh. He probably had to carry me to my apartment and get my keys from my pocket. I look to my alarm clock and my eyes widen in shock. Oh shit, I'm supposed to be back at school in fifteen minutes. Quickly, I sit up and put my shoes on (Henry must have removed them, that's really sweet) before grabbing my bag and keys. I'm about to rush out of the bedroom when I hear Henry's voice.

"Are you okay?" He asks in a gruff and groggy voice. I turn to see him and he's rubbing his eyes innocently, looking confused as he watches me.

"I'm late for school. I'm supposed to meet my supervisors for some questions I have and to see whether some of the research I've done is valid." I hurriedly reply. "I've got to go, I'll be back soon, okay?"

He gets out of bed, rubbing his face as he wakes himself up fully. "If you want, I can drive you. I was planning on going to pick up a few things so maybe after you're done I can fetch you from your campus." He suggests.

I sigh. "Okay, come on, let's go. And when you drive, just drive as fast as you can."

A few minutes later, as we're in the car and I touch up on my makeup, I realize it doesn't feel out of the norm for us to be like this. I chuckle to myself and it catches his attention. 

He glances at me, curious. "Are you going crazy or do you have a reason to laugh?" He jokes, shifting gears to go a bit faster as there's a clear road ahead of us.

I lean back into my seat, my hands grasping my Chanel compact mirror and eyeliner pen as I grin at him. "I was just thinking to myself that we're acting like this is simply a part of some everyday routine we have together."

"What, you being late and me driving you to campus? I hope you don't make a habit of this." He tells me.

I narrow my eyes at him playfully. "I won't. What I meant was us being in the car together doing our own things and not being nervous like any new couple. I'm trying to say that I like how comfortable we are around each other... I think this is a good change for not only me but _us_." 

"I'm glad you think so." He responds, giving me a smile before he looks at the road again. 

"So don't you have anything to attend to? When are you going back?" I ask.

He shrugs in response. "Well, I'm not supposed to have anything work-related this week so I can stay on probably until next Tuesday."

"No meetings whatsoever?" 

"None."

"Well that's sad, because then you'll be spending a lot of time without me. I have school but if it helps, I can stay at home for the days I don't have classes to teach or have meetings with the faculty. I usually try to stay at home to work on my DPhil."

"You don't have to stay at home just because of me. Honestly, if you can't do your work and give a hundred percent into it at home especially with me around, then you can stay in school or go wherever to do so." He assures me.

"You're lucky that my DPhil doesn't require me to stay around for a fixed number of hours or as heavy of an amount of workload as the mathematics and sciences DPhil students so I can still spend time with you and put in like 25 hours a week into it." I tell him. 

We arrive at the college and he drives into the drop-off point and stops. Slowly, a smile spreads across his face. "Okay, fine, I really wanted you to say that. We're here. So I'll see you later, okay? Call me when you're done so that I can pick you up."

I frown, confused. "'Call you'? We haven't exchanged numbers yet."

"But you've got my number from this morning." He reminds me. "Anyway, you're already running late, aren't you? Go knock them out with your brilliance, baby."

My heart does flips when he tells me so and I can't resist throwing my arms around him to kiss him appreciatively. "Thank you, Henry. I love you." 

He kisses me again chastely. "I love you too."

Reluctantly, I pull away and grab my bag before giving a last glance at him and getting out of the car. Closing it behind me, I'm filled to the brim with euphoria and I breathe in deeply. Today has been a pretty good day so far, but now, I'm late.

* * *

The intense silence that derives from my supervisor and head of the humanities faculty, Grace Marlborough, and me is almost coming to an end as she inspects the last lines of my research before she closes the page of the document on her laptop. Raising her brows, she nods. "Not badly done, Miss Beaumont. You can go ahead with these. You're doing good and it's only the first day."

I sigh in relief. "Thank you, Dr. Marlborough. Anything else?"

"Nope, none that I can think of. Oh, wait— there's a faculty meeting on Wednesday at ten in the morning and that should be it. I want another check-in on your research progress by... next Thursday." She informs me.

"Oh, okay. See you Wednesday, then?"

She nods again. "Yes, Wednesday. Why, aren't you doing your research in the office as per usual?"

 I grimace. "I, uh, I have a guest to entertain this week at home so I'm doing my work there as well."

"Does the guest have anything to do with this morning's commotion and the media's sudden focus on our college about a subject _not_ about academic excellence?"

"I... The media knows?" I widen my eyes. I groan, running my fingers through my hair. "Oh god, can we please...?"

I try to string words together in my head but all I give her is a look that confirms her suspicions. When she gets the message, she sighs. "Well, I won't let word of this conversation out, Ophelia. Other than that, let me remind you that you will need balance in your life so plan your time well and be disciplined about it." She nonchalantly says as she plugs out my thumb drive from her laptop with her eyes remaining on it. She slips my thumb drive towards me across her desk. "You're free to go now."

"Thank you so much, Grace." I give her a grateful smile before leaving her office. When I do, the faculty office isn't as empty as it was when I first arrived— everyone had come back from their lunch breaks and are now staring at me.

I try to avoid their gazes as I look ahead but my friend, Colleen Jeffries, appears in my view and she doesn't look all the happy with me. Her brows are raised as a questioning look occupies her face.

I try to smile widely. "Colleen! I—"

"Ophelia, when were you ever going to contact us after you left all of us at Los Angeles?" She asks. "And what the bloody hell was Henry Cavill doing on campus?! Why were you beside him?! Do you know him or something?"

I sigh. I just _knew_ this was going to happen. Upon hearing Henry's name, everyone around us glances up and keeps their ears peeled. I shoot a warning look at Colleen and pull her to a corner where not many people can hear us.

I check our surroundings first before explaining. "I'm sorry about not texting any of you guys after Los Angeles. It slipped my mind and that's an honest mistake. Now, about Henry Cavill," I gulp nervously before lowering my voice, "yes, I do know him. We met... somewhere. He's in town for a while and that's it."

She narrows her eyes at me. "That's a very vague explanation from someone who likes to lengthily explain about why Starbucks is good for people."

"...Well, that's because that's all there is to it." I respond with crossed arms.

She narrows her eyes at me. "Ophelia, you're crazy about this guy and you've been like that since, I don't know, the dawn of time? He's a Hollywood actor and you're going to have to tell me sooner or later." 

I fiddle with my fingertips as I look away from her. "I have to go now. I promise I'll tell soon okay? Just... don't pressure me into doing so."

"Alright, fine, that sounds good to me." Colleen gives in. "I'll see you soon."

"Soon." I promise and walk out of the faculty office. Getting my phone out, I call the latest missed call number and he picks up in record time. 

"Hey babe, you done?" He asks.

"Yeah, I am. Where are you?"

"I am at Tesco trying to get some groceries to stock your kitchen up."

I frown. "Why?"

He chuckles. "The only things I could find in your refrigerator were orange juice and a dwindling amount of English Breakfast teabags in its box on a shelf."

And he reminds me— I've cleared all of my food before I left for Los Angeles because I knew I wasn't going to be at Oxford for a month or two before the new batch of freshers arrived. I had only gotten home from my parents' yesterday afternoon and I dropped by a convenience store to grab orange juice on the way. Other than that, I wasn't very hungry yesterday. 

"Oh," is all I can say as I think about it.

He laughs. "I have you covered. I found that you've got a PlayStation and that you've got the latest Call of Duty, so maybe we can play that after you're done with your work."

"Did you seriously go through my stuff while I was sleeping and too knackered to wake up?" 

"Yes... I did. Sorry about that but I was very tempted to do so." 

I burst out in laughter. "It's fine. When are you going to finish shopping?"

"Actually, I just started and all I've got is a bag of crisps. Hold on now, I'm coming to get you. I need you to be here with me so that I won't buy anything you wouldn't."

I roll my eyes. "Alright. Fifteen minutes should be sufficient enough so I'll see you here in fifteen." I tell him before I hang up.

Walking around the college, it didn't feel like it used to be. The conversations between students are suddenly hushed whispers and the occasional glances from anyone who passed by increased alarmingly, and I think I know why.

Searching for Henry's name on Google, recent news articles popped up about him being here in Oxford, along with pictures most possibly provided by those who watched us blatantly when we were going out of the lecture hall. I frown, clicking on DailyMail's article. They've got details from the students, including the inside story from one of my students. And then, there's my full name there, with my age and what I study in school. My steps falter as soon as I see it. 

I then look up at the people staring at me with a blank expression and I walk briskly out of the hallway and to the pickup point. Wishing that Henry will come and get me immediately, I cross my arms and tap my foot out of habit as I wait for a glimpse of my car to appear.

When it finally comes, I can't wait to get in to avoid the penetrating and intrusive gazes. Luckily, my car windows are tinted and nobody can see who's picking me up. I open the passenger's seat door and Henry greets me with a grin. 

"So how was it? Did you get scolded for being late?" He asks.

I shake my head, chuckling. "I was lucky. Dr. Marlborough approved of my research and gave me the green light to put it in my thesis."

His smile widens. "I told you you'd knock 'em out." He says before driving out of the college. 

The smile on my face dissipates as I think back to what happened— how everyone watched and now there are vultures scavenging for information about me. A shiver runs down my spine and Henry notices when he glances at me at the same time the uneasiness sets in.

His face grows wary as he keeps his eyes darting between the road and me. "Ophelia, are you alright?" 

I stay silent. He doesn't know about them. Sighing, I turn to him. "Have you seen the articles?" I finally say. "They know about me. They know my name, my age and what I study... I'm surprised no one had told you about it yet."

As soon as I say it, his phone's ringtone chimes and we're at a red light. He fishes out his phone and places it to his ear. "Jennifer." he greets monotonously into his phone. I can vaguely register the woman's voice through the silence in the car and he listens intently as he almost absentmindedly drives us. "I'll have to discuss this with her privately. I'll call you back as soon as possible after we've settled this." He tells her before hanging up. 

"Who's that?" 

"My publicist. She called about the articles you just mentioned about."

Huh. Just in time. "What did she say?"

"We have to discuss about what to do about it because it's not just about me, it's also compromising your privacy." He replies. "So do you want to make a turn to your house or do you still want to shop?"

"I think it'll be better if we don't starve at home, so I still want to pick some things up."

He nods and continues the journey to Tesco. The silence is deafening and I place my hand on his thigh, wanting him to know that I'm okay. Judging from the look on his face, he's still not convinced that I am. Finally, when we arrive at the mart, I grab a trolley and push it as we start from the first lane of the place. Magazines are on display, from cars to fashion, weddings to photography, parenthood to gossip. I chuckle when I see Henry on the cover of a magazine and I pull it out from the rack blatantly in front of him.

He rolls his eyes and laughs. "Alright, alright, put it back." 

"No, no, no..." I keep the magazine out of reach from him as he tries to snatch it from my grip. "I'm going to buy this and you can't stop me," I giggle as I try to avoid his hands, but he lifts me up easily and I yelp in shock.

With one arm around my waist and the other trying to grab ahold of the magazine in my hand, he manages to pluck the publication from my hand and I glare down at him. He simply grins out of pure satisfaction in return. With his eyes still on me, he puts the magazine back onto its rack. "There, it wasn't so hard now, was it?" 

"You're frankly very annoying." I narrow my eyes at him in chagrin.

"So I've been told." He responses smoothly. We stay like that for a moment or two with me in mid-air and him with no sign of wear with me in his arms. Without warning, he nuzzles his face into the crevice between my breasts through my off-the-shoulder top and I squeal in surprise and wiggle instinctively in his grasp.

" _Henry_!" I gasp and pull his face away from me by his hair. "We're in public! This isn't proper etiquette," I scold him lightly. "Is this what you always do? Pressing your face into women's breasts in public?"

"Only yours."

I roll my eyes. "We're lucky there's no one in this lane. Let's continue shopping. Put me down."

He refuses to do so but he adjusts me to his back so that he can piggyback me while he pushes the trolley. We go about like that for ten minutes while he picks up some (wholemeal) bread, some olive oil butter and wheat tortillas. I stop him when I get overwhelmed by the amount of healthy foods there are and get off his back, literally.

"No, no, no, I want normal tortillas! Normal white bread! Normal butter!" I tell him, my arms swinging hysterically as I stand in front of him. "I want Nutella and my chunky peanut butter! I want my rocky road ice-cream! I want my stash of normal potato crisps, not the 'healthier' version!" 

He watches me, amused. "How many times do you work out in a week?" 

I cross my arms. "Obviously more than you think!"

"I think you work out twice a week."

I pause. "Oh." He guessed it right. Damn it. 

He chuckles. "But still, you need a balanced diet. Hearing about what you want makes it pretty obvious that you're at it with the typical university student's diet."

"That doesn't mean I'm unhealthy. I work out all the calories of the food I eat eventually." 

"I'm not talking about calories only, Ophelia," he tells me. "I'm talking about sodium and sugar, the vitamins and carbohydrates. Even if you work out, the food you eat is still unhealthy."

"Okay, okay, fine! You're annoying, oh my god." I groan. "I don't have the patience to argue with you about this, but I still want my rocky road and crisps. And Nutella."

He laughs. "Deal."

I sigh in relief. "Anyway, talking about working out reminds me that I haven't done so for this week. I'm going to have to go to the campus gym to do so."

"I don't think you need to do so," he shakes his head with his voice lowered. His eyes darken as he licks his lips. "I can just work you out any time you want me to."

Oh no, not this again. "Henry," I start steadily, "not now."

"Then when?" 

"When we're back in my apartment."

He swoops in to capture my lips with his, his tongue languidly swiping in and out of my mouth as his hands pull me closer to him. The familiar outline from his jeans reminds me of the airplane and I gasp. One of his hands dip down to my ass and he squeezes it. I'm in a plethora of emotions as he suddenly pulls away from me, his hands and lips leaving my body. I grapple on the metal bars of the shelves to hold myself up and regain my equilibrium, my vision slightly hazy.

After blinking repeatedly, I find him bending down with the freezer door open, picking out various Ben & Jerry's ice cream flavors. He has rocky road in one hand while he reads the ingredients of another flavor in his other hand. He looks up at me, showing the flavor to me. "Is the cookie dough flavor nicer than rocky road or do I have to pick another one?" He asks nonchalantly as if he didn't kiss me hard with a raging erection on me. I raise my brows at him, but he grins with a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes, the only proof that whatever happened did happen. Sneaky.


End file.
